


Catnip between the pages

by Fictionally_inclined_character



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: AU, Because I love bookstores, Don't you?, F/M, Fluff, Humor or attempts at humor anyway, Humor with bits of fluff thrown in, Modern Age AU, Oddball slow burn, Social anxiety and discomfort, Some angst if you like, Warning may contain cuteness and lots of personal pondering inside one particular bald head
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-04-23 05:06:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 81,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4864220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fictionally_inclined_character/pseuds/Fictionally_inclined_character
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Crossroads is a quiet sort of bookstore with nothing out of the ordinary about it, and that is exactly how Solas likes it. <br/>Until one fateful Monday morning when a stray waltzes in and changes everything, whether he likes it or not.</p><p>A modern bookstore AU about changing and how to to tame felines (you don't). See also, culture shock, being too polite, good natured meddling, and why open-ended contracts and accumulating debt is a bad idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rainy days are here again

**Author's Note:**

> Jumping on the AU train, because of the 'in another world' dare from Weekes; let's face it, he was asking for it and egging us on (pun intended) when he wrote this romance to be so terribly angsty. I make no apologies for taking my frustrations about the lack of a happy ending in writing and posting this so we can all share our suffering.
> 
> (Disclaimer: the usual, I love Dragon Age, have a love-hate-love relationship with Patrick Weekes' writing, and own nothing but my personal headcanons and thoughts)
> 
> Ps. I love both cats and dogs in case anyone was wondering.  
> Pps. All Elvish and booktitles are meant to be gibberish and inaccurate because I am not perfect and this is a work of fiction where such allowances are to be granted. If you have suggestions how to improve them, I am all ears.  
> Ppps. No people were drowned in the making of this fiction.  
> Pppps. (This is too fun to stop) I aim for steampunk-ish technology, and to clarify, a readout is like a mixture of the sixties supercomputers and modern computers. Imagine them however you like. Any technical slang I get wrong, I apologise, I am not a technically apt person, I merely pretend to be one for the sake of writing better prose.

It was a slow Monday morning at the bookstore, when the city was still hungover from last weekend, and too grumpy to get out of bed on such a lovely spring day.

But what it really came down to, Solas contemplated with a sigh as he looked out the store window, was the downpour of rain keeping people indoors and hurrying past his little boutique. The rain was savage as it came down like rivers of water, splashing and creating riverbeds along the sidewalks, and was so obscuring that Solas could for once gaze at his own drab reflection in the window instead of passers-by. 

One customer in particular would not shut up about Solas needing to smarten up to attract more customers, but Solas saw no reason to change; he was not supposed to be the main attraction, the books were. Not that Dorian ever cared, he just went on and on about Solas needing to consider a new haircut (being 'blandly' bald was more practical), getting a smart work suit (his 'tatty' sweaters and 'raggedy' jeans were not offensive, and they were comfortable no matter what the weather threw at him), and possibly learn how to smile in a way that did not resemble the rigor mortis of a corpse; unfortunately thinking about Dorian's well-meaning fashion policing only served to deepen his scowl and likely only frighten more customers away. 

Solas glared at his reflection and turned away in disgust to do something more productive, like double check this month's accounts.

The bookstore, and this was more of a storage outlet than a real bookstore, was always a slow paced workplace, with only a single employee, a faulty cashier program that led to a cash only policy, and a security camera in the form of the two eyes in said employee's head.

Most of their business came from mail-order shopping, usually by libraries who needed the Academy press editions this particular Academy funded and maintained outlet specialised in (and not much else), which Solas saw to with the reluctant aid of an old and rust encrusted readout station, probably from the late blessed age period.

The few people who came to his shop in person were curiosity shoppers forwarded his way by the more popular bookstores, Academy researchers seeking materials, and the occasional idle people with nothing better to do than prevent Solas from doing inventory, sending the occasional parcel via post, and re-organising their cataloging system.

Thus when the rigged store bell rang on this exceptionally rainy Monday morning, Solas was mildly annoyed and surprised by the interruption.

On his welcome mat, trailing water like a drowning rat, was what Solas supposed to be a man, but it was hard to tell with the matted hair stuck to his/her (?) head, loose dripping hoodie, simple jeans colored to almost black by the downpour, and squelching sneakers. It was an androgynous set-up, but then from what he had seen, modern youth were exceedingly good at mixing genders to the confusion of older people.

This person's appearance was a milder cause of concern for Solas compared to the water cascading off the body and the stacks of books disfavorably placed everywhere with some trepidation.

"Can I help you?" Solas smoothed his countenance and used the mildest tone he could manage.

The person used their right hand to smooth away the crow's nest on their head, revealing the most unlikely of faces he had expected to see on a wet monday morning.

The drenched person's tanned face was framed by Vallaslin, Dalish ceremonial blood writing, as if in personal mockery to Solas' resolutions.

The person cocked their head this side and that, like an animal checking him out before they garbled a thickly accented query, likely more used to speaking another language, "Is this the Crossroads?"

It also became exceedingly apparent that either the man was much younger than his appearance suggested, he was an extremely high pitched speaker by choice, or he was in fact a she.

"Yes," Solas acknowledged, "Can I help you?" He repeated carefully, unsure what a Dalish elf was doing in his bookstore of all places. Although that kind of snap judgment was not fair; he had seen city elves take up the Dalish tradition of tattooing their faces if they had recent Dalish ancestry, making a further mockery of the markings than the Dalish put them to, so it was entirely possible s/he wasn't Dalish.

"I'm looking for the Ghil-Dirthara Vir'annaris," the person continued, heedless that they were soaked to the bone, "Or the Arcanum Gardafex," they added after a moment of thought.

Solas stared.

The stranger stared back, their green eyes giving him no clue to the thoughts churning within.

"Er, I am afraid we do not stock books as old as that," Solas replied faintly, surprised anyone even knew about those books.

"Arcanum Deverenne?" The person demanded.

"No," Solas returned.

"Lex Arcanum?"

"No," Solas felt a kind of morbid curiosity overtake him as the person listed twenty similar titles, all at least four ages old facsimile editions, one and all forgotten Ancient era to pre-Divine age manuscripts which had fallen from common knowledge as modern theories took their place, and he had to reply with a definite 'no' each time.

"Why are you asking?" Solas couldn't help inquiring after the exercise was over.

"The shem library was useless," the person said matter-of-factly, with not a tinge of derision or malice to be heard despite the content of his words, "Professor Pavus insisted more current edge theorists had improved and proven the old texts obsolete, but he's wrong,"

Ah, yes, Professor Dorian Pavus, the prolific magitech genius of Skyhold Academy. Which meant this person was likely a student.

"And let me guess," Solas drew the logical conclusion, "He directed you here,"

The person nodded in agreement.

Solas exhaled deeply, rubbing the bridge of his nose in annoyance. He could just picture the arrogant fop of a Professor laughing gaily as he sought to make Solas' life a living misery.

The stranger eyed the massive mountains of books filling every corner of the small cramped store, in his gaze was an implication of accusing Solas of witholding the books from him/her for some nefarious purpose of his own.

"The titles are not in our inventory," Solas repeated calmly, customer service was not his strong point. Dorian always harped on and on about the lack of a smile, or a welcoming atmosphere.

"But," Solas knew he would regret this, but he would not give Dorian the satisfaction of gloating and/or whining for his inabilities to provide a simple service for one of his students, "I have a few approximations in stock if you need-"

"Void engines," the stranger interrupted him, "The probability theorem, dimensional folding, the Pontifex code; in any order,"

Solas raised an eyebrow, trying to determine his customer's age; the topics consisted of seriously advanced magitech theories and applications, doctorate level stuff, and frankly beyond doctorate level. The stranger looked to be little better than a teenager, and this was taking into consideration the elven longevity factor. Either Dorian was pulling a prank on him, or he had sent this student in his stead, although the latter was considerably less likely than the former.

The stranger didn't bat an eyelash at the scrutiny, merely reflected back his own interest.

Reluctantly, Solas began weaving through the stacks, pulling out five tomes of various shapes and sizes. 

"We take cash only," Solas reminded his prospective customer, uncertain if the stranger could afford even one of the tomes. They were old, and by current standards outdated, so he couldn't charge much, but students rarely had the money to buy their own books.

The dripping stranger came closer to the counter, their countenance void of any feeling, and Solas was unable to discern any particular tells of either larceny or conmanship. The stranger blinked their eyes a few times, leaning over the counter, and Solas pulled the tomes back to avoid the splatter, although his accounting spreadsheets did not fare so well.

"I can trade you some tech; programs for anything you want, but I can also offer services if you want things fixed or upgraded," the odd person said with a completely straight face.

"I'm sorry?" Solas was baffled by the suggestion.

The stranger glanced at his readout station, "Model Galatea-77? They tend to be prone to glitching in the base program," they commented, then looked up at his lightly mottled plaster ceiling, making note of the various wires running on the edges with a nod, "Faulty wiring and improperly installed powerlines, it makes the third light at the back flicker on and off. Are they chorded or copper conductive?" They addressed him, tilting their head again.

It occurred to Solas that his eyes were watering, and that the stranger not blinking was at fault.

"Copper conducted I believe," he found himself answering, and the stranger nodded thoughtfully.

The stranger produced a clumsily stitched green leather bag from inside their hoodie, still relatively dry. After fishing inside awkwardly using only their right hand, his prospective customer placed a few hardware chips on the counter.

"They should be G-77 compatible, and I can install them if you can't," the stranger said, "They'll patch up the worst base program faults, whether its your hardrive or archives that is the issue,"

"Er," Solas hesitated, "I did mention cash only?" He reminded the customer.

"I am offering a trade," the stranger maintained without a single doubt, "Name your price,"

"I am not sure you understand the concept," Solas retorted.

The stranger tilted their head this way and that, a frown appearing on their brow, "I am mechanically apt, and can repair anything you require, if this is insufficient, give me a day and I will make more hardware if my current offerings are insufficient for an equal trade," the prospective haggler explained, as if Solas were some kind of hard bargainer, or perhaps hard of understanding; Solas wasn't sure he was reading the stranger right.

Solas rubbed his nose, "I am sorry, I cannot, er, trade for these," he tried to say it as calmly as he could, an olympian effort when taking his rising blood pressure into consideration.

The stranger uttered a disapointed breath, withdrew the chips from the table, hid the satchel back inside the sodden hoodie, then said, "I will return with more," they promised with a sense of foreboding, and before Solas could say anything, they had boldly stepped back into the pouring rain and disappeared into the fog.

Solas glared at the puddles on the table and the trail of water on his floor, and wearily locked the door so he could fetch a mop from the tiny cleaners' closet upstairs; the bother about being the only employee meant he was the cashier, security, archivist, busboy and cleaning crew all rolled into one.

But he doubted he'd have another customer today, so leaving the counter was harmless. 

Solas decided to put the strange student out his mind and returned to his duties.

 

\---

 

It had to be some kind of practical joke.

Solas felt his eye twitch as he stared down the admirably stone-faced Dalish student from yesterday.

Solas was fairly certain he was dealing with a woman now, albeit because they were an elf the obvious difference between human sexes was out the window; no facial hair tended to make discerning gender nigh impossible for anyone at first glance, in addition with the fact that elves were thinner and skinnier than the other races gracing Thedas, it made obvious body type distinctions harder to spot.

But Solas had the leg up on that account, he was more used to look for the differentials in his own race; the Dalish' clothing had not improved from yesterday, but the lack of being soaked to the bone had allowed the clothing to actually hint at the difference of anatomy from what he'd expect from a man. 

This was harder to substantiate due to the fact that the woman (?) seemed to consider dressing in anything less than practical or comfortable wear disagreeable, had their hair boyishly cropped short, and their Vallaslin indicated a dedication to Elgar'nan, not the normal preference of many female Dalish to his understanding.

Or rather, not the run of the mill Dalish... perhaps they were a city elf after all, who had no idea of the significance, caring little but for the unobtrusive design?

His brain was taking its time to notice all the details whilst he tried to prepare an argument that would solve his dilemma once and for all. Sadly, it seemed easier to concentrate on the details than to find a way to talk himself out of the tricky situation.

There were now five different hardware chips on the table.

After the tense silence had lasted for too long, Solas cleared his throat and repeated, "I am afraid I cannot trade for the books. We only take money,"

"You take currency; this is currency," the elf re-iterated her earlier position just as implacably as yesterday; the lack of drenching made her easier to read. She really saw no problem with the premise that labour or other material goods could be used as currency.

It had to be some sort of prank. 

"Please send my regards to Professor Pavus," Solas said with finality, hoping to end this farce by calling the ruse, "But if he tries this again I will be inclined to retaliate,"

The Dalish tilted her unblinking head curiously, before replying, "I do not see what Professor Pavus has to do with this,"

"Please don't," Solas growled, feeling an incoming headache, "Just take the books and leave, I'll have words with the Professor about sending other people to do his dirty work for him,"

The Dalish' expression was shattered by surprise, she turned her gaze to the ground intently, but flashed him a brief smile from behind her bangs when she stole curious glances at him from the relative safety of her defensive posture.

Solas writ up a receit, another old-fashioned alternative due to his lackluster technical support, smacked it between the books he retrieved from under the counter, and tried his best to contol his simmering ire at Dorian's irresponsible and selfish attempts to 'loosen him up'.

Solas slid the books over meaningfully, along with the hardware chips, hoping she'd take the hint and not come back.

The woman began packing the tomes away hastily, using only her right hand, again, which looked mildly discomforting, before practically fleeing the store with a barely muttered goodbye.

Solas would take great pleasure to put the books on Dorian's tab; the fashionable man disdained mundane payment methods, believing firmly in the glorious progress of modern age magitech assisted banking and credit cards.

He considered the matter well and truly dropped.

How wrong he was.

\---


	2. Never judge a book by its cover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your support! I can't let you down, so have another chapter ;)  
> Featuring more supporting cast; I do love writing everyone's favorite time traveling mage who likes to believe he is fabulosity itself (he is).  
> Ps. I am totally guilty of assigning the worst possible surnames when left no other option. Blame Weekes and Bioware for the puntastic opportunity :D

Solas loathed disruptions. It shattered his concentration, and he disliked being forced into social situations with no warning to brace or prepare himself. 

He hadn't always been like this, a part of him reminded himself, but they had all been young once. Solas was older and wiser now, and had grown used to solitary reflections and a respect for careful consideration and order, rather than the chaos of impulsive youth born righteousness.

Dorian Pavus stood for the latter order; if there were a definition in a dictionary, his name would be found under the headline as primary example.

Dorian was impeccably smart and undoubtably brilliant, but woefully self-absorbed and had an ego the size of the continent. Solas tried very hard not to let it affect him, but nothing got under your skin more than painful reminders of your own mistakes.

The flamboyant man strutted into his store with his usual verve, pointedly ignoring the large closed sign hanging on his door and declaration the outlet was closed on Sundays; Solas had developed a kind of seventh Dorian sense, he always knew when the man had arrived even before he burst through his modest front door. Much good it did him, but you couldn't well return even the weirdest of gifts life decided to bestow upon you; not that Solas hadn't tried.

"Hello Dorian," Solas droned without raising his gaze from the requisition forms he had been triplicating.

"Hallo old chap," the gleaming brightness of his current fashion disaster, all sparkling buttons, buckles, off the shoulder leather jumpsuits and white silk robe, made Solas roll his eyes.

"I had a look through my tab yesterday," Dorian said conversationally, "And do you know, I found the most curious of mishaps, when you had accidentally charged me for five books I am fairly certain I'd never stoop to reading," he laughed jovially, "You little rascal you, always keeping me on my toes! It almost brings tears to my eyes to see the immaculate Mr Wolfe make such a beautiful mistake after lecturing me about corruption and the wonders of accurate accounting for who knows how long,"

Solas frowned, turning his mind over the past week; when had he- no, wait, he remembered now. The damned Dalish girl and the prank.

Solas' neutral expression hardened into a glare.

"No need to look so mortified old boy," Dorian winked conspirationally, "I'll let it slide, we all make mistakes, and besides, it hardly cost me much in terms of money, and now I can tease the great Mr Wolfe about his imperfections with actual justification, so it's a worthwhile trade,"

The word 'trade' set him off.

"Very funny," Solas growled, "Yes, by all means, laugh and pull pranks at the poor penniless elf in the run-down bookstore, but did you have to involve your damn undergrads in your scheming? That's a new kind of low-"

"What on Thedas are you on about Solas?" Dorian chortled, "Whilst I am pretty great in most respects, I usually let Sera handle all the pranking, since she takes a kind of morbid amusement from pulling them,"

"Don't assume me a fool merely because I have no formal degree," Solas rubbed his nose irritably, glaring at the irreproachable Tevene, "You sent that undergrad of yours here to mock me-"

"Honestly Solas, you've lost me-" Dorian tried to interrupt but Solas' tirade could not be stopped after gathering steam in his subconscious for a week at this point.

"-Water all over my floors, ruining my careful balances, and a few books to boot, which I should charge you for come to think of it-"

"Solas, you're not as young as you were, and since your face is turning quite the disfavorable shade of red at the moment, perhaps you should sit down before you have a stroke," Dorian tried to flash him a debonair smile meant to subdue him, but Solas was only enraged further.

"-Rude, irresponsible, unbelievably reprehensible, a disdain for-"

They were both silenced when the store bell rang.

Both turned to stare at the timid figure of the very same Dalish student Solas had been ranting about, dithering in the doorway.

"Well I'll be damned," Dorian whistled, "Solas you dog!"

"The shop is closed," Solas raised his voice to snarl over Dorian's crass insinuation, fixing the gleeful man with a withering glare, "Please come back tomorrow,"

"Um," the Dalish girl did not heed his command and sidled her way to the counter, fishing in her stachel for something before hefting two very heavy looking pieces of metal on the table with only her right hand, a feat of impressive dextertity.

Dorian was staring between the metal things, Solas, and the girl, practically vibrating amusement.

Solas could feel a tick forming under his eye as he stared at the lumps of metal on his table without comprehension.

"It's a magnetograph," the girl eventually informed them, "To be placed on both sides of the door inside. If you adjust the lockdown frequencies to the bindings on the books, and I can upgrade it if there are more than five types of frequencies, I'll show you later, anyway, it will prevent removal of books out of the shop without permission," she rambled as she rummaged through her pack, again, to produce a much smaller metallic rod-like object, placing it delicately next to the lumps, "This will cause a temporary disruption in field around the book, allowing traded goods to be removed manually once trade is finished,"

Utter silence reigned.

Dorian, his eyes shining bright at the sight of technology, cooed as he studied the lumps, "Fascinating! How did come by this kind of hardware? It must have cost a fortune!"

"I made it," the girl avoided their gazes behind her bangs, and her right hand began fiddling the strap of the satchel over her shoulder.

"You-" Dorian snorted in disbelief, and began laughing merrily, "Preposterous! This is a joke, yes?"

"No, I made it," the girl returned with composure based in fact.

"Oh, this I've got to see," Dorian hooted, "Go on, prove it works,"

The girl lifted one of the larger lumps in her right hand, measuring the exact middle of the door in terms of height with a thoughtful glance, then set to work; the alarmingly metallic whirring sounds and strange humming coming from behind her back, currently and conveniently blocking Solas' view, did not reassure him that his modest bookstore was not going down in flames.

"I didn't-" Solas began to object, but Dorian shushed him by putting his arm around Solas' shoulders, and he stilled like a gargoyle from the unwanted and unexpected touch.

"No one can just build a magnetograph!" Dorian whispered to him, barely concealed excitement mixing with glee in his voice, "This is for science my friend!"

Solas tried shrugging the man off, eventually succeeding and Dorian bounded over to hand over the second part of the machine to the girl, and the Professor took the opportunity to begin jabbing at his student, demanding technical explanations the girl did not respond to.

Once the two pieces of magitech were installed, sticking to the wall without any visible support, the girl grabbed the delicate stalk, and fiddled with the few dials and screens on the side. 

She grabbed one book off his shelves, and scanned the metallic bindings in fashion these days to make the tomes less prone to be burned or somehow mutilated by the various magitech in use, before somehow transferring the reading into the 'magnetograph' by touching the stalk to it.

Then she handed the book to Dorian and said, "Try to leave with it,"

Dorian accepted the task with a smirk, "Oh, I will, it can't possibly-" 

The second he had opened the shop door to leave, the book flew off his hands by an invisible force, sticking to the magnetograph like glue.

The girl pressed a few buttons on the side of the graph, and the book dropped to the floor with a thud.  
Dorian, silenced to shock, tried to leave with the book four times, always with the same result.

The girl gently pried the book from her Professor's stunned fingers, pressed the stalk to the binding, giving a strange chime, and walked out of the store without issue. Once back inside, she pressed the stalk to the book again, giving a slightly lower register chime, tried to stick the book outside the still open door, and it flew into the graph with a humming sound as it activated.

Dorian gaped, lost for words.

The girl removed the book from the machine, placed it back into the shelf where she took it from, and put down the delicate tool on the counter in front of him.

Solas felt dazed, and very, very confused.

"Why did you-" Solas tried to frame the question, but stuck on the details.

The girl replied in elvish, unfortunately it sounded like a string of complete gibberish to him, spoken in a dialect even Solas didn't recognise; the girl acted like it explained everything he'd need to know.

She angled the stalk to point out two buttons.

"The blue one releases books when you press it once whilst holding it against the book, the screen shows the reading of the frequency in question," she switched back to Common and explained with admirable confidence, "Red is for checking in books, and also shows the frequency you last checked in; press it down while touching the magnetograph to upload frequencies. If you want to remove a frequency, press the blue down instead, after reading the code you want to be rid of the database, it'll remove the last reading on the screen,"

Then she smiled at him, a quick, shy quirk of her lips that darkened her tanned cheeks, "Thank you for the books," she mumbled, tucking a black strand of unrly hair behind her ear nervously as she dithered in the absolutely stunned atmosphere centered around her, and finally she fled outside with a garbled goodbye.

Solas stared after her in mute shock.

Dorian looked between Solas and the disappearing silouette of the Dalish girl, "I think I am going to need an explanation how, and above all why, my worst student just bequeathed you with valuable, and might I say impossible for her level of learning, technology, which according to her, she built with her own hands,"

Solas wasn't sure what exactly had just happened, nevermind explain how he had gotten into this mess.

"I should ask you the same," Solas finally managed, his fury evaporated, but the root cause was still there, "You sent her here to play a prank on me," he accused.

"Solas, please, if I wanted to play a prank on you, I would never have chosen that particular student for an accomplice," Dorian shook his head ruefully, "She is... very special. In the sense that I have no idea what she seems to be thinking most of the time, how her mind works, or how she got into the University in the first place. She's not turned in any assignments, only empty papers, and her background is atrociously outdated, by at least five hundred years I thought," 

"Or, well, I used to," Dorian corrected himself, glancing at the device on his store wall warily, "How the hell did she build a functional magnetograph when she can barely carry the zeroes on a simple formula?"

"You sent her here," Solas maintained, "She said so when she came here on Monday,"

"I have no idea if I did, honestly," Dorian frowned, fingering his pencil moustache contemplatively, "Most of our interactions consist of her staring at me, asking me really weird questions instead of answering mine, and arguing that modern science is inferior to older studies, despite historical fact and current consensus in scientific inquiry,"

"She asked for very old books," Solas confirmed disobligingly.

"No doubt," Dorian rolled his eyes, "Even I've not heard of half of the books she talks about, and I am a bonafide and well-read genius," 

Solas wasn't going to deign that piece of self-delusional propaganda with a reply, instead scowling at the man sullenly, sure he was responsible for Solas' woes, one way or the other.

"Although.. now that you mention it," Dorian drawled off thoughtfully, "I do remember an argument we had a week ago I think, where after she had complained about the Academy library not being 'up to date', and I suggested that she come here to the Crossroads, since you have this habit of squirrelling really old books in the back,"

Solas wanted dearly to smack his forehead with his palm. Or if possible, smack Dorian's.

"Those books are a private collection, not for sale," Solas growled.

Dorian shrugged, completely ignoring and dismissing rules of retail and bookstore policy, "I didn't know she'd actually show up; it's not like I gave her an address,"

Dorian lapsed into silent contemplation, before bursting into laughter, "Oh! That's why you put it on my tab! You thought I had sent her to get books!" He clapped his hands together in delighted understanding.

Solas wanted to strangle Dorian's smug veneer by this point.

"Oh this is just precious," Dorian snorted, "You do know you could have phoned me to check?"

"I do not-"

"Yes, yes, I know, you don't have a private phone line, or well, a functional one anyway," Dorian waved him off, "What an amusing mistake. Well, at least the money went toward a good cause, so as far as I am concerned, consider it a stipend for the girl; I will magnanimously cede my right of ownership for the magnetograph to the original recipient, so you're welcome, and if it does explode, you can't blame it on me,"

"But-"

"Now, I have an appointment to keep, so I must be going," Dorian swept away magnanimously, "Don't do anything I wouldn't; Dalish tech isn't exactly up to modern standards in terms of safety procedures. Who knows what she used to power it, but that's not my problem," he shrugged as he wiggled his fingers in an audacious wave at the door, "Au revoir,"

His laughter lingered like his tacky cologne, and Solas groaned, anticipating a migrane.

Solas eyed the device on his table dubiously, uncertain what he should do with it.

Solas put it under the counter, and tried to pretend the magnetograph didn't exist, and that this was just a bad dream he'd forget in the morning.

Sadly, this reality persisted and was in no hurry to dissipate.

\---

 

Solas almost had the fright of his life when he returned to his post from a small break, only to find the very same Dalish girl from yesterday's unnerving magnetograph incident, sitting behind the counter and fiddling with his readout station. What made this twice as damning, was that Solas had most definitely locked the front door before he went upstairs.

"What are you doing?" Solas demanded, cursing that he lacked a direct panic button for the authorities.

The girl looked up from her work, "I am fixing it," she explained like it was obvious.

"Why are you fixing it?" Solas pressed.

"It was broken," she returned with a shrug, before bowing back into the readout.

"I did not ask you to fix it," Solas wondered if he could just throw her out, but decided not to risk it; with her baggy clothes, she could be hiding any number of concealed weapons in there, and he doubted those stories of Dalish smuggling weapons everywhere were completely off base.

"You bargained, I am returning the favor," was the only explanation he received.

"I did not bargain, or do anything of the sort," Solas felt like he was wrangling with an eel.

She was startled, and looked up at him with widening eyes, her cheeks darkening with embarrassment that pleased Solas' annoyance. Perhaps there was hope for true communication yet.

"I do not need you to fix anything," Solas continued slowly, like explaining things to an infant, glad his words were finally sinking in, "I do not want any favors repaid. You have the books, it's all settled, there is no need to pay me back," he did not add anything about the weird magnetograph which he had been powerless to remove, despite his best efforts.

She blinked owlishly, before awkwardly pulling away from the readout, hiding her anxious expression behind her overgrown bangs, "But its broken, and I can fix it," she mumbled.

"I am sure you have better things to do," Solas hinted, hoping the girl would take his meaning and leave.

"If I fix it," she glanced at the monitor, showing a string of code flasing against the blue background, "Maybe you could trade me more books?" She suggested, her fingers rubbing an errant strand of hair between them.

She was impossible. How was he supposed to deal with this insane Dalish girl? How would he ever get any work done with everyone pestering him?

"If I do that, will you leave and not come back?" Solas queried dully.

"Your wiring needs-"

"Do you not understand the concept, 'not come back'?" Solas demanded with exasperation.

"I can come back later for the wiring," the girl acquiesced, "Do you have any books on dark matter? Or anti-gravity?"

Solas quick marched through his stacks, withdrew seven different books, and slammed them on the counter. 

"Pick any two," he grunted, "I have seventeen different variations thereupon,"

She cautiously checked the titles, before easing the middle one and the second to last one from the pile, putting them inside the satchel by her feet, nodding at him, "It is a deal. I will fix the readout, it will take two hours," she stated and returned to her task.

Solas was regretting this already, but he figured she could do no more harm than what the poor machine had already been subjected to; it was little better than a paperweight in terms of usefulness, and had been for years. It was worth losing relatively useless titles to be rid of her lockpicking ways for the day, and possibly forever.

Solas wrote her a receit with hands shaking from irritation. He shoved it unceremoniously in her face, which she accepted absently, focusing all her attention on her work. 

Solas hovered anxiously near the counter, glaring at her suspciously; she could be infecting his readout with a virus or she could be destroying the thing by her ineptitude for all he knew. 

Solas had no reason to trust her, and sadly, no explicit reason to distrust her either. So far. She may be strange, but she did not seem malevolent, however odd her mannerisms and behaviour appeared to be.

Her choice in clothing was not aiding his peace of mind; aside from the ill-fitting lumpy hoodie and tattered jeans, her left hand was hidden by a glove, and Solas wondered why; while his store wasn't exactly blessed with warmth, it wasn't privy to air conditioning either, and with two people stuck inside in the middle of the day, straight in the path of the sun, she must be cooking inside the glove. Overall, she looked like a penniless hobo with a glove fetish. Solas was no fashionista, but even his simple tastes were appalled.

She ignored any further questions he posed, and having no other options without resorting to violence, Solas decided to put it out of his mind. Since there was nothing he could do but wait and see, he instead threw himself to reshelve the new issues that had arrived that morning, doing his best to ignore the girl behind the counter while she worked; the only sounds in the store were rapid clicks as her fingers danced on the keyboard and the soft footfalls of his bare feet as he padded between his shelves.

In exactly two hours, she tapped him on the shoulder, and Solas barely restrained the impulse to shove her against the wall and pull a weapon on her (old habits died hard); the girl moved like a shadow, despite his ancient creaking floorboards.

"I am finished," she informed him, tugging at his sweater to follow.

To his amazement, the readout was in fact functioning. The UI was clean, not pixelated at all, and actually reacted to commands with little to no pause.

"I have only restored the basic system," she explained professionally, "If you want me to check for specific program functionality with the system update, I will need fifteen minutes per program, at least, and if you want me to customise it, another hour, depending on the specifics,"

Solas did a quick mental calculation; what a new functional readout would have cost him, what a certified repairman would have demanded for what she had done for a few books, and compared it to the books' prices.

Wordlessly he picked up four more books and handed them over with a receit.

She stared at them in confusion.

"The value was not equal," Solas replied gruffly to the unspoken question.

She favored him with a surprised grin. 

Carrying the books under one arm, she finally left the premises as promised once Solas had assured her he needed nothing more.

He spent the rest of the day testing the readout, and cursed inwardly that whatever miracle she had pulled off, while it had not restored function to his long defunct credit card reader, it had breathed life into his accounts, and Solas would need to spend weeks to type in his updated inventory.

Solas supposed he owed her more books. 

\---

 

Just when Solas thought he understood the damn trading system the strange Dalish girl favored, she pulled the rug from under him.

Despite his entreaties and the supposed deal he had struck with her, she appeared each day for a whole week, always doing something to fix his decrepit little shop. It was like he was stuck in a figurative swamp, only entrentching himself deeper in debt than actually being anywhere close to getting out.

She had spent Tuesday fixing his wiring with the aid of a stepladder, which he had lent her reluctantly after unsuccessfully berating her from the activity and she had tried to use the bookcases to get at the roof.

Solas was reduced to watching in dread nearby as she took down his wiring by hand, tiptoeing on the wobbly ladder. She coated the wiring with some strange plastic foil, repairing the parts that were risped or downright unsalvageable with something she pulled from her mysterious roughly sewn together satchel, and then put the whole thing back up again with the aid of some powertools she had also brought with her. 

As insult to injury, she changed his lightbulbs while she was at it. The unexpected side benefit was that he could use the oven and his washing machine upstairs at the same time without blowing a fuse.

Solas had hoped that it was over, and she'd finally leave him alone. 

It was not.

Despite his strict admonitions, and him locking his doors to prevent entry, neither precaution did nothing to slow her down since she had simply used the backdoor, which he had not been aware anyone else even knew about. Wednesday was spent further fiddling with his readout, and fixing his broken and outdated payment reader.

As a result Solas had had to phone his overseer from the small public phone at the street corner to inform her that he needed a new contract with a bank to allow him to take credit and online payment plans. Lady Montilyet had been very happy and surprised by his spontaneous burst of improvements, and on the morning of the next day she had arrived with a clerk from the bank to set the accounts in order.

On Thursday Solas hadn't even tried to stop her when she fixed the phone line, he was just glad the Dalish had missed his superior's brief visit. By then Solas was beginning to feel guilty, because the amount of work she had done with no 'real' pay as a 'favor', was wildly disporportionate when compared to the rewards Solas received. Solas was uncomfortable with the idea he was abusing the girl, who seemed to have a very unfortunate idea about the true monetary value of her skills.

Solas stewed over it all through Friday whilst the girl tinkered with his thermostats and boiler, which likely meant he could actually not spend most of the next winter wearing three layers whilst inside. When she had stuck her head out of his boiler room with her big green eyes opened wide, and asked if he wanted her to install a new interface for more accurate heat readings, Solas' guilty conscience resolved to offer a refurbishment of some sort.

On Saturday, before she could start any further work, Solas offered her more books for her efforts, and she declined. 

"I don't need any more books," she fiddled with the strap of her bag, avoiding his eye, "I've already-"

"Done more than enough," Solas interjected resolutely, eager to get this over with. 

Solas was not good with people, and his social graces, though strained by the week's activities, had not been overly extended because of the Dalish girl's complete lack of idle prattle, an unexpected balm on his strained nerves. He had feared she would insist on small talk to add to his misery in the circle of hell he had driven himself into, but had grudgingly been gratified she had respected whatever was left of his privacy.

Reluctantly, Solas pulled out one of his ancient tomes from under the counter, "It is not for sale, but I can allow you to peruse it," he offered gruffly, "Although I am fairly certain your university must have this one in print, or on display at least,"

Her eyes sparkled as she beheld the tome, one of the lexicons she had expressed a desire to see on the very first day of their acquaintance.

"The shems don't want me in their library," she told him offhandedly, flicking the cover open to look through the index.

"I am afraid to ask..." Solas eyed the book protectively.

"They said I didn't follow the rules, and they said my trades were dissatisfactory to cover the costs of the books they had to replace," her nose scrunched with annoyance, "I could have fixed it, but they didn't let me; some big rude shem threw me out, and kept throwing me out if they caught me inside the premises,"

Solas warily decided then and there the books would not leave his watchful eye, but he couldn't take the offer back now he had made it, so instead he compromised, "You can read them in here; but you will handle them with care, and do not vandalise my books; understood?" He set the ground rules with an implacable tone.

The girl frowned in annoyance, and opened her mouth to argue.

"Act respectfully in my shop, and perhaps I may allow you to see more of them," Solas interjected, before she suggested some ridiculous favor to allow her to borrow the book.

The girl nodded slowly in acquiescence, running her fingers with a yearning sigh over the thick leather cover, and she pulled up a chair so she could read the book from the start. Solas settled onto the readout, checking her out the corner of his eye now and then, and it was a good thing he did, because she almost began making notes in the margins of the lexicon's fragile pages.

Solas seized her wrist in time, and after a very one-sided argument, he relented enough to allow her an unused notebook for the purpose. It was hard to argue with a girl who did not bother to speak more than a few sentences at a time, or make any arguments to defend her case.

Solas began to worry she had fallen asleep; were it not for the occasional scratch of pen on paper he could easily believe her to be in some sort of trance. Solas tried to interpret the calculations and jumbled sentences she jotted down inside the notebook, but he could not make heads or tails of them; in part because of her atrocious penmanship, in part because her elvish writing was not the standard he had learnt.

Solas tried to point out the closing time to her, but she seemed either too focused to hear him, or was oblivious to the concept, because she ignored his pointed coughs and cleaning up attempts.

Solas was reduced to shaking her by the shoulder in the end, "I am closing up for the night. You should head back home," he prompted.

The girl let out a breath of acute disappointment, packed away her things, and left the notes and the book on the counter before shuffling out reluctantly.

It occurred to Solas he had never once asked for her name.

\---


	3. Look what the cat dragged in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter for today. Don't worry, I'm saving up the good stuff for later ;) Thanks to all you encouraging, lovely readers! 
> 
> Ps. Happy Solas smut Saturday (this isn't smut sadly. Maybe later? idk)  
> Pps. Solas is living the dream of all bookworms everywhere.  
> Ppps. I'm an ancient language nerd with too much time on her hands. Hooray for more supporting cast!

Solas was starting to think he should either replace the locks entirely or just not bother locking up for the night, because when he entered the store level in the morning, yawning and still half-dressed, he found the Dalish girl sitting by the counter with her nose in his book. Had she even gone back home after he had closed up last night, or had she snuck back in to pull an all-nighter?

It wasn't even his work day! How did he meet these kinds of people who had no concept of personal boundaries, rules and regulations, not to mention privacy?

"You do realise there is a reason why it reads 'closed on Sundays' on the door?" Solas tried to hold back his low blood sugar born ire. He was even less of a people person in the morning.

"I am not here as a customer," She replied without raising her gaze from the book.

"I could have you charged with breaking and entering," Solas growled as he headed to the only bathroom in the complex, located inconveniently at the lowest level, hidden in a tiny closet between the back door and a door down to the boiler room and cellar; Solas didn't want to admit how often he had accidentally opened the wrong door by mistake and almost broken all his bones by tripping down the steep flight of stairs.

"If the store is closed, why are you here then?" she asked him curiously, raising her head when he returned from his morning necessities.

"I live here," he barked the retort more harshly than he meant, before heading back upstairs.

Solas busied himself with his usual routine, determined to ignore the girl until he had regained his wits, preparing a modest breakfast in the small kitchenette somehow fitted into the already cramped quarters of the second floor landing. 

He almost dropped his breakfast tray when he found the girl wandering about in his living room, with its single run-down sofa, tiny dinner table barely large enough for one, and little else.

"This is a private area," Solas informed her pointedly, to no effect.

She paid no attention to him, instead peeking in his shower, which Solas supposed he was lucky that he had enough room for, albeit it only had room for the shower, his busted old washing machine, and nothing else.

The Dalish girl wandered among the stacks of books strewn about his living room that doubled as storage and handy surfaces for his varied paperwork, rifling through documents and scanning the titles haphazardly placed, shuddering like faulty towers at her touch.

Solas decided it was too early for this shit and focused on more important matters, like eating breakfast.

When he returned from cleaning up his dishes and she was nowhere to be found, he rushed up the small staircase to his bedroom located in the attic, where, predictably, she had squeezed in between his few personal bookcases crammed full of antique books and the single desk, busily fiddling through his private book collection.

"Please come back to the store," Solas said in his best commanding tone, "I would prefer if you left my private things alone,"

The girl put back the book she had been browsing with a pout, and he nudged her down the stairs as he closed the door after her with as little slam as he could endeavour in his current mood.

They settled into the store front without further comment, and Solas made a point of keeping an eye on her so she didn't stray back upstairs into his private sanctuary. 

Come to think of it, he didn't think anyone other than himself had ever entered his small bedroom before.

Solas felt he should be angrier with her for invading his privacy, but after a week of intrusion after intrusion, whether he wished it or not, he had grown numb to the outrage and passed into the waters of passive-aggressive acceptance.

Metaphorically, it was like he had accidentally adopted a stray cat. A very useful cat, but a cat nonetheless. He had never really considered himself a cat person.

Around midday, Dorian arrived to grace them with his presence.

"Solas my friend, I am going to need you to ring me up for-" the jovial tone faltered when he realized Solas was not alone in the store.

"Oh, Ellana dear, I didn't notice you there," Dorian recovered admirably quickly, "I hope you aren't bothering Solas?"

The girl, who was named Ellana apparently, was drawn into the spotlight, "No. I am studying," she replied matter-of-factly after a thoughtful silence.

"Usually people do not study in run-down bookstores on Sundays," Dorian corrected her kindly, "You do realise the Academy has a perfectly good library for student use, right?"

"I was banned," Ellana explained without explaining at all.

"Pshaw, so you destroyed a few books, happens to any of us; just pay the fines and I'll vouch for you," Dorian promised benevolently, "You won't fare well in the finals if you only read musty and outdated theories from a thousand years ago," he pointed out amicably.

"I disagree," she replied curtly.

"Ellana dear, you're barely in the pack as it is," Dorian reminded her, "If you don't at least scrape together a passing grade, you are going to drop out,"

She declined to answer.

"I didn't think you would condone this kind of behaviour?" Dorian turned his attention to Solas after several minutes of useless badgering; Solas smothered another useless sigh in response. Why was it always him?

"It's not like I could exactly stop her," he sent the Dalish a simmering glare that completely missed its mark, "After she forced her way in here!"

"I believe Sera did warn you about this matter, rather vocally, on several occasions," Dorian chortled, "Even she finds it cheating how easily you can break in here, and I must say, you are taking the supposed breaking and entry a lot better than I'd have expected after that lizard episode,"

Solas refused to comment on, or even remember, that fiasco. Just the thought of scales made him shudder with distaste and a tinge of leftover fury.

"And I see you have allowed her to touch your precious books to boot!" Dorian noted the ancient tome currently at the Dalish' perusal, "I must mark the date in my calendar, the Chantry down South could use a new holiday, and this certainly qualifies as a miracle,"

Now Dorian brought it up, it was surprising behaviour coming from him. The whole week had been one exception after another, spending most of his day with someone else in the store with him, making compromises, trying to learn and understand another's way of life... 

How could a single Dalish girl could have just appeared in his orderly life one rainy day and changed everything around it with barely any effort on her part? Solas felt his internal hackles rise in disapproval the more he thought about it. The sooner she was done with the book and out of his life, the better.

He was jolted out of his thoughts when Dorian returned to business, "Anyway, I need a few publications my dear friend Maevaris recommended, do you think you could hook me up?"

Solas rolled his eyes, "You do know Lady Montilyet will have your hide if you keep spending your grant money on unrelated, prohibitively expensive to import, Tevene research," he began clicking his way through his readout to bring up the much improved requisition function.

Dorian prattled off half a dozen esoteric titles, ignoring the jab, and added, "I'm going to make myself a coffee while I wait for that banged-up-"

"All done," Solas had to admit enjoying the look of disbelief on Dorian's face.

"You're pulling my leg," Dorian brushed off his surprise with a laugh, "You haven't even written anything down yet!"

"The request has been sent," Solas repeated with a ghost of a smirk.

"That busted up old thing could barely manage to open your e-mail on sufferance, nevermind-" Dorian scoffed.

"Is it malfunctioning again?" Ellana interrupted worriedly, beginning to rummage through her satchel hastily using only her right hand, "I've been working on a new decoder, if you just wait a-"

"Wait," Dorian made a gesture of a time-out, "You fixed his readout? Even I wouldn't touch that diseased pile of malware with a fifty-foot pole, nevermind get it working again!"

"It was the deal," Ellana stated with a frown.

"What deal?" Dorian asked curiously.

"The standard," Ellana (un)helpfully supplied, fishing out a chip, she rounded over the counter, making shooing motions at Solas.

"It's fine," Solas assured her, "Dorian is overreacting,"

The girl frowned, but Solas made more poignant shooing motions, so she returned to her seat with a pout and put away the chip, shooting disapproving frowns his way all the while.

"Well," Dorian crossed his arms as he looked between the two elves' exchange, "I believe I will still be having some coffee before I go; my nerves are shot," Dorian huffed and proceeded upstairs with his usual blasee disregard for boundaries.

Solas followed after him as always, only so he could prevent Dorian from misusing his kitchenette and sparse ingredients to make some crazy pick-me-up potion, like he often did when visiting whilst hungover from whatever party he had been attending last night.

But this time Dorian yanked his arm into the kitchenette and fixed him with a disapproving glare.

"I hope you are not misusing her?" Dorian demanded under his breath, showing a surprising sense of humanity underneath his callous and vain exterior, "Is she at least being paid for doing your dirty work?"

"I've tried to pay her, with books if nothing else," Solas exhaled, pulling his arm away with a vicious jerk, remembering with a grimace the last time he had tried to offer her cash; she had stared at the money and asked if he needed her to buy him 'shem' groceries, and had seemed to be baffled by the notion that she should be paid for what she was doing in coin.

"She refused me," Solas ground his teeth in frustration, "She also won't take no for an answer, and if I don't let her in, she breaks in here; what else am I supposed to do? At least if I keep her reading she won't be tempted into renovating my personal quarters!"

"You could call the cops I suppose," Dorian suggested.

"She has literally done nothing but help me," Solas huffed and crossed his arms in irritation, "If I call the police, they'll be the ones who'll arrest me for taking advantage of her!"

"I guess there are worse fates than being fawned on by a pretty girl," Dorian shrugged.

"I am not being- ugh, don't be ridiculous," Solas pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

"Just do me a favor and try to get her to pass the finals," Dorian filled the kettle and set it to boil whilst he rummaged the pantry for the coffee beans he had forced on Solas for 'customer service purposes', ie so Dorian could mooch coffee off him whenever he wanted. 

"I snuck a glance in that notebook of hers; she could probably give me a run for my money with those calculations she was doodling!" Dorian scoffed with disbelief.

"I don't see how this is my problem," Solas growled, leaning on the counter and fuming, "Once she is done with the book, she'll not come back," or so he hoped. He dearly missed his uneventful normality now it had been taken from him.

"Solas, my dear fellow," Dorian sniffed as he poured milk and sugar generously into his larger than average coffee cup, which he had also forced on Solas, "The scientific community would greatly benefit from a mind that can build a magnetograph from scratch that actually works, not to mention being able to fix your Maker-cursed readout,"

"Even your miserly heart cannot ruin a girl's future by inaction," Dorian blew the smoke off his vile drink and sipped it with baffling enjoyment before continuing, "You seem to have the only opportunity to get inside the head of that obstinate girl, if only because you collect the same wonky backwards thinking lexicons she seems fascinated with,"

"Please make it count; if not for my sake, then for hers," Dorian entreated him, "If she doesn't get passing grades in the finals, she's out of the program," .

Solas wished, not for the first time, that he had never accepted this post, no matter how convenient and easy a life it offered; if he had known all the drama he would be unknowingly signing up for in the fine print, he would have walked away and not looked back.

"If you want to convince her, be my guest," Solas grumbled, "But I want nothing more to do with this mess you set me up into by forwarding her to me," Solas marched back downstairs, and was not surprised at all to find the girl on his readout.

"I told you," Solas moaned as he rushed back to the counter, "It doesn't need maintenance-"

Dorian eyed his unsuccessful attempts to convince the girl to stop with a curious detatchment from the upper landing, still sipping on his coffee.

\---

 

Solas had eventually managed to evict both his 'guests' from the premises so he could get on with his life. 

It had led to some extremely tense and reckless driving on his part; his unresolved frustration and unrealised ire should have dissuaded him from even contemplating the long drive to the outskirts of town, but he would never have missed his one chance to see his dear friend.

He parked in front of the familiar yellow brick building complex and signed into the lobby, before proceeding to the common room on the second floor.

"You're late, old friend," the familiar dry voice of the elderly woman called from a comfortable chair near the balcony overlooking the lake nearby.

"My sincere apologies," Solas felt his worries melt when he seated himself opposite the old woman, "I was held up by unexpected circumstances,"

"Oh?" His friend's tired green eyes twinkled from behind her bespectacles, "What sort of 'circumstances' are these?"

"Well," Solas shifted awkwardly, "I would rather not get into that,"

"That's not like you Solas," the old lady berated him gently, "I have not seen you this uncomposed since we met,"

Solas' eyes softened, "I'm sorry Sophia," he sighed, "It has been a long and unusual week,"

Sophia put down her knitting and placed an old gnarled hand on his comfortingly, "Tell me about it; for it sounds like quite the story, and this old lady has had a most uneventful week herself; unless you count in the excitement when Fred forgot to wear his pants, again. I would be happy to hear about something I doubt latent exhibitionism brought out by festering mental health issues play any part in,"

Solas squeezed the offered hand thankfully and as gently as he could; her bones were so frail he feared she would fracture her wrist from even the slightest of sudden movements.

"Well," Solas considered his problem, already feeling more clear-headed and relieved just by being in her soothing presense, "It all started the week before..."

Sophia listened attentively, and asked thoughtful questions now and again while still giving him the space to tell the story in full.

They both sat in silence once his story was over, as both collected their thoughts in peaceful contemplation.

"It sounds like this young lady is quite the personality," Sophia finally judged, "It occurs to me that some of her peculiarities might be explained away by her being Dalish,"

Solas scoffed, "Is she though? I have no idea, and do not particularly care to find out,"

Sophia shook her head fondly, "You should be careful that your prejudices are not blinding you to the truth,"

"The Dalish-" Solas began the familiar debate, only to pause when the older woman was taken by a coughing fit. 

A nurse hurried over from the sidelines to help his rapidly degenerating friend regain her breath, only leaving once Sophia had assured her she was fine.

"My apologies," the old woman's smile was as brittle as her voice was rough, "I am afraid this new medication strips my throat worse than sand,"

Solas nodded sadly. The truth of aging for the other races of Thedas was always an unwelcome reminder, for his friend seemed to fade away further with each visit while he staid the same, and she had been old when he had met her almost ten years ago.

But her spirit was as vibrant as it ever was, her mind was shrewd and sharp like a razor's edge, and her heart full of gentle wisdom gladly shared. Sophia was fond of reminding him, that she would have nothing if she had not lived such a long and remarkable life, and would not change or regret a thing about it.

"You were likely about to say the Dalish have no culture except that of vagrants and those with no history but what they made up," Sophia summarised humorously, well-aware of his stance, "But everyone has a culture my friend. The Dalish are no exception, however misguided their beliefs, they have developed their own traditions revolving around their vagrant lifestyle of the past eight hundred years, which the rest of the world will have trouble translating without personal experience,"

"The Dalish I have met did not wish to educate me, except in how I could be executed for no better reason than not being one of them," Solas glared in remembrance of that bitter lesson.

"And yet, as far as your story goes," Sophia pointed out insightfully, "This particular Dalish has done nothing but aid you for reasons of her own we do not understand at present. Unless I am mistaken, there is no Dalish Clan nearby, so she must be on her own here. Perhaps she sees you as one of her people?"

"Dalish rarely leave their Clans, nevermind view the rest of elvenkind as equal 'kin'," Solas argued, "Besides, she is a student at the human led Academy. I highly doubt the Dalish have the means to educate someone to the extent required for admission, never mind pay the fees! These facts alone are strong indicators she might not be Dalish; anyone can tattoo their face, indeed it seems to be quite a fad among city elves with Dalish heritage," 

"There is a first time for everything my friend," Sophia reminded him, "Perhaps she has special circumstances that have brought her here. Have you asked her about it, or is this mere postulation?"

Solas fell silent, and Sophia chortled, "I had a feeling. You have always been an intensely private person my friend, and having someone violate that sanctity, nevermind a Dalish girl, would likely make you more distressed than curious I suspect,"

Solas exhaled, "It does look petty, does it not? I am not... as apt at socialising than I was in my youth. Things were simpler then," he reminisced, and his memories added spitefully, 'And so much worse'.

"And yet you have born this... trespasser, with an equanimity I find very vindicating my friend," Sophia remarked with a smile, "I hope the good I forsee this can bring about can draw you out from the safety of your shell; have I not always said you have much to give to the world, my friend, if only you had some purpose to bring it about?"

"Many times my friend," Solas shook his head with amusement, "And yet alas, I cannot give more, for do I not give enough already?"

"No one can say you don't give my friend," Sophia's eyes twinkled, "The fact you generously offered a Dalish girl one of your precious tomes to study is proof enough of your benevolence, my friend. I am merely pointing out that acting through charities and various channels as a faceless outsider will not benefit your personal growth as much as personal involvement would. But come, I believe we have argued about this topic sufficiently in the past, and I would dearly like to finish our game before visiting hours are over,"

Solas reached for the gameboard and set it up to their last configuration, wishing that time would stop so he would never have to suffer the loss of one more precious light of life in all all too lifeless world.

\---


	4. Be careful what you wish for

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The more you struggle Solas, the faster you sink... on the other hand, it's starting to get fluffy in here! Sink away!
> 
> Ps. Finals are an ordeal of three days, three to four exams a day in this universe. Do not try to skip your preparations like this, no matter how incentive the bet! Gambling is bad, and skimping on studies is also bad. Don't be like me ;)  
> Pps. I imagine the Dalish use pretty wacky recipes with an 'everything goes' mentality, every meal is potluck surprise, and any Dalish can make a full course meal from a can of beans, two half-rotten potatoes, a cup of flour and a bottle of water.

It became a kind of routine among his other routines. The sudden appearance of the Dalish girl in his shop at ungodly hours was accounted for efficiently; he left the tome and notebook out for her if he was busy elsewhere, and he learned to suffer the inevitable; nothing was sacred or out of her reach if left unsupervised.

When his vigilance failed, she had upgraded his washing machine, fixed his faulty piping, changed the light bulb inside his oven, and he barely managed to convince her to leave his small fridge alone. 

Naturally this meant he could not leave her unsupervised for long periods of time. There was no telling what she would do if he was not there to stop her. Solas felt like a parent with an infant, the way he had to grow a third set of eyes in the back of his hand and slap her fingers away from the varied forbidden areas, such as the insides of his private desk, or the account ledgers.

Luckily, since he lived in the shop and did not much venture out of it except on necessary errands and the occasional visit to old friends, Solas had more than enough time to waste babysitting the restless vagrant.

Solas drew the line at her staying the night. He had been very firm on that after finding her dozing on his sofa one morning.

It took her two weeks to work through the massive tome, and by then Solas felt about as mentally exhausted as a single parent with a particularly distressing case of overly excitable children.

But she still appeared the next day; Solas found her sitting in between the few book cases he had in the store, using the strange device she had made for him, going through all his carefully arranged books, which to his great relief, she replaced in the same spot after she had scanned the title.

"Look," Solas sought some kind of way to convey his desire for some quiet, private time, but drew blanks because it was like he was communicating with a cat, which pointedly ignored him and did not follow any direction but her own, "Don't you have finals coming up soon? Shouldn't you be studying for them?" He finally snapped at her.

She shrugged, and continued her crusade.

"I'm sure you have better things to do with your time," Solas maintained the assault, "I doubt there are many things left you haven't fixed or somehow tampered with, so thank you for all your help, but I think it's time to-"

"Your shower needs repairs, as does your faucet," she replied monotonously, "I will need to study shem plumbing more if I want to do a good patch up job,"

"Shem- Humans have plumbers who can do that if necessary," Solas reassured her.

"Your washers are ineffective and wasteful," she continued, "I've been trying to design a better model, but my attempts haven't been successful so far,"

"Everything is fine-"

"Also, why aren't you using the magnetograph? Did you forget how? I can show you again-"

"Are you even listening to me?" Solas groaned with exasperation, "I don't need help!"

She turned to look him in the eye at last, her face smooth like a river pond, implying her disapproval with silence when just a second glance at the ancient building said otherwise.

"I appreciate your help," Solas grunted irritably, and snatched the rod from her hand, "But I think it's high time you went back home to study,"

She blinked a few times, "Well, I have been considering a triple construction for the-"

"Let me clarify," Solas said with a grimace, he really felt like a scolding parent now, "School studying. Your finals, as Dorian keeps reminding you, are in less than a week, and to my knowledge, you have not turned in one assignment or done any work whatsoever,"

"I am working," the girl frowned disapprovingly.

"Not on school," Solas retorted.

"Working is learning," she glared at the ground, hiding behind her bangs again.

"No, not in this instance," he pinched his nose, "You know what, fine, if you won't listen to me, maybe you'll listen to this; what would it take to make you pass the exams?" He demanded with rising ire and despair.

"Are you... offering a trade?" She asked after moment of silence.

"The trade, if you insist, is this; you study to pass the tests, and you won't be kicked out," Solas explained, wanting to shake her by the shoulder, "That's the 'trade' you've made with the Academy to get a degree for whatever reason you want it for. You are not holding your end of the bargain if you are not studying for it,"

She frowned, "But the things they 'teach' are all wrong and lies-"

"You signed up as a student," he pressed, "Whether it means you have to lie and play pretend you accept their lies, you need to do it, if only to appease them,"

The girl raised her head to look at him, "Is this what you want me to do?"

"Yes," Solas said emphatically, relieved he was getting through at last.

"Then I want something in exchange," she declared, hiding her eyes behind her bangs as she began fiddling with the sleeve of her overlarge hoodie.

"What-"

"I want to read more tomes," she demanded resolutely, "The ones upstairs,"

"I didn't agree-" Solas spluttered.

"I will pass the finals if you let me read them all, whenever I want," she bargained.

"Look here-"

"You want me to do something for you," she explained like it was the most natural thing in the world, "You must do something for me in exchange, and I am asking for more of your knowledge, hahren,"

Solas raised a brow at the term hahren, (for once pronounced in a way he could understand it), in conjunction with himself. Of course he was older than her, but he had never considered himself that old, nevermind anything like a mentor. He was just a shop keeper for crying out loud!

"Do we have a deal?" She stared up at him, standing defiantly behind her demands.

"This has nothing to do with me," Solas attempted to remind her.

"You want to change our arrangement," The girl returned implacably, "Those are my terms,"

So, there was some kind of arrangement in her head? This was news to him, and he had no idea what such an arrangement entailed, because he certainly had never agreed to anything.

"Shouldn't you be directing such demands to Professor Pavus?" Solas was frustrated by this development.

"Why should I care about what the shem Professor wants?" The girl cocked her head to the side.

"Perhaps because he considers you his student?" Solas continued holding onto his rapidly decreasing patience.

"If so, he is no teacher worth respecting," The Dalish remarked and clambered upwards to challenge him eye to eye (or eye to chin, since Solas was almost a head taller than her petite frame), holding out her right hand expectantly, "If you want to reconsider your wishes, please do, but I'd like to get back to work,"

Now he remembered why he avoided any sort of conversation with people, much less this particular person; they were utterly illogical, impulsive and incomprehensible.

"I told you," Solas uttered a moan of frustration, "You should go home,"

"Yes, that was one of your terms," the girl crossed her arms, tapping her foot impatiently, "But you have not given me your promise,"

Solas rubbed his forehead and took a few steadying breaths.

"Fine," he snapped, "On the provision that you pass all your finals, with above average grades, and once you hand me indisputable proof of your success, I will allow you access to the tomes you want to read, within sensible time constraints,"

The girl smirked, "Very well hahren; we have a deal," she declared with confidence, gathering her things into her satchel, and she sauntered outside with a mysterious smile thrown over her shoulder at him as she stepped out into the street.

Solas heaved a sigh of relief; peace and quiet at long last.

\---

 

Solas congratulated himself on the solution to his problem with the stray; there was no way she would, with a scant four days worth of preparation, be able to pass every final exam with above average grades.

He would likely have a leisurely two weeks before grading was announced to enjoy the peace and quiet she had robbed him of. No doubt she would come back to announce her failure eventually, but for now, he was free of her distracting presense, and he could actually relax without a need to constantly be on guard for the next impulsive whim the girl had.

However, this proved to be harder than he expected, because every now and then, Solas would find himself taking pauses to look around his empty shop, or catch himself expecting something to happen in the stillness of the quiet to disturb or disrupt it somehow. 

It was like an itch just out of easy reach, or losing balance because an expected stair was no longer there, causing more than a few mental stumbles during the long week after the deal was struck, and he readjusted to his life sans a stray Dalish girl his feet had gotten used to tripping over every chance they got.

Even his Dorian sense was affected; when the store bell rang on Sunday, he had panicked and almost dropped his roast in his haste to ensure the Dalish girl had not snuck in and was going to start pulling his readout apart, but he found only an amused Dorian laughing at his scare.

"You'd think you'd seen a ghost," Dorian laughed gaily once Solas had put away his dinner and was sitting behind the counter with as much composure as he could gather.

Dorian glanced around the shop, "I see Ellana is not gracing us with her presense today," he didn't sound very disappointed, "Which is a shame, but then I could not have possibly bragged in front of a student, nevermind the student in question; my reputation would be in shambles!"

"Anyway, I came to thank you dear fellow," the friendly Tevene slapped him on the shoulder, "I knew you could do it, it was amazing,"

Solas raised an eyebrow at the hand still on his shoulder.

"It was quite gratifying," Dorian grinned as he finally withdrew the unwanted appendage to make grand gestures of delight as he spoke, "I struck gold in the betting pools I'll have you know, so I am feeling extra generous today, I'm planning on splurging a bit and purchasing some extra material for my latest research, among other things," the man stroked his moustache with obvious pleasure.

"What are you on about Dorian?" Solas asked warily.

"Like you don't know!" Dorian chortled, "This was your influence, and I couldn't be more happy my friend,"

"I will need you to clarify," Solas had a premonition...

"Ellana, bless her Dalish soul," Dorian sighed wistfully, confirming Solas' worst case scenario with his next breath, "Unexpectedly made an apperance in the finals, and do you know, she got full marks on every subject, beating every freshman and other competitors by a landslide!"

"Everyone's talking about it in the teacher's lounge," Dorian informed him, "The Dean was exstatic, the board was pleased, the trust that was paying her tuition was more than gratified," Dorian listed cheerfully. 

"The odds against her dropping out were very lucrative considering her lack of inclination towards studying all semester," Dorian was practically preening, basking in the glory of achievements he had decided were all his own doing apparently.

If Solas had been holding something breakable, it would doubtlessly have shattered in his fists as they clenched so tightly the skin around his knuckles turned white and his fingernails were leaving imprints into his palm as Dorian praised his student's sudden spike in school activities.

"I don't know how you convinced her, but I knew you could do it, there was no doubt in my mind. You, my friend, are a benign influence," Dorian pat him on the shoulder again which Solas was too numb to protest to, "Well done! Very well done! Now, I will leave you to celebrate this momentuous day, and rejoice what the little bonus my extra spending will allow you," 

Dorian dropped a list in his atrocious handwriting on his desk, "Can't stay to chat I'm afraid," he explained haughtily, "I've got an appointment with my manicurist I can't afford to be late for if I don't want to miss my hair stylist and make-up supervisor's appointments too, and consequently be absolutely unfit to be seen at tonight's little party, so ta-ta!"

Dorian strutted out of the shop like the vain peacock he was.

Solas groaned and slammed his head against the counter in defeat.

He should have known he'd dug his own grave by agreeing to the stupid scheme. Now she could hold him to it for all eternity most like.

So much for peace and quiet...! 

\---

 

Solas started awake in his bed, his hand searching for a knife under his pillow that wasn't there.

"Sorry hahren," a quiet female voice from somewhere between his bookshelves piped up, "Didn't mean to wake you,"

Solas flopped back on his back with a groan. From the corner of his eye, he could see the flashing dial of his alarm clock pronounce it was four fifty-six in the morning.

"Please tell me you at least locked the door after you?" Solas tried to communicate through several yawns.

"Should I have?" The girl asked after a moment of consideration.

"Yes, you should have," Solas groaned, rolling himself out of bed with great effort, he felt around in the darkness before dawn for his robe.

"It seems a bit silly," the girl muttered, "What if someone needs to-"

"My house, my rules," Solas growled as he wrapped the robe around his mostly naked body and proceeded downstairs to the store to lock the front door.

There was a printout on his counter, informing him duly that indeed, she had passed all her exams, and had all A's on file, with the Academy watermark, and the Dean's signature.

Solas considered shredding the evidence and denying everything, but he was dressed only in a loose bathrobe and his knickers at five in the morning, and he was definitely in no shape to fight anyone for breaking the terms of his 'arrangement' with the damned Dalish girl.

The girl peeped at him from the upstairs landing, "I will make breakfast," she informed him before disappearing into his quarters.

Solas let out a string of the sort of vulgar, vile curses no decent man should admit to knowing, and bounded upstairs after her.

She was calmly taking stock of his fridge when he slammed it shut and glared down at her.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" Solas asked in as mild a tone as he could manage.

"It's morning," she replied easily, "I have fulfilled my end of the bargain,"

"I said within sensible time constraints," Solas bit out, rubbing his aching eyes, "I do not consider before seven a.m. to be sensible,"

"No," the girl responded calmly, "I said whenever, and I am respecting your privacy by waiting until morning,"

"Morning is generally defined as beteen six and nine a.m.," Solas informed her.

"That's arbitary rubbish," she defended herself, crossing her arms, "It's almost summer, daytime starts earlier and lasts longer; sunrise is usually considered the standard from where I come from, or an hour before,"

"My house, my rules," Solas repeated viciously, "Come back in a sensible few hours," he emphatically gestured at the door.

"You promised, hahren," she replied primly, obviously deciding on ignoring him, and she re-opened the fridge, "This is a reasonable hour to my understanding; since you are both awake and are capable of coherent speech,"

Solas seriously considered taking a knife to her throat and forcing her out. 

Heedless of his homicidal ponderings, she emptied out his pantry and fridge of common cooking materials, grabbed a bowl, and regardless of health concerns, she began mincing the vegetables haphazardly before crushing them together with the rest of the sloppily added ingredients without the aid of any utensils or measuring cups, and used her right hand fingers to grind them into batter.

Solas stewed and glowered at her unapologetically morning oriented persona for a few minutes, before deciding it was pointless, and proceeded to his shower to wash away the worst of his ire.

Properly dressed and freshened up, he re-entered the living room to the scent of baking.

Worried she was burning something Solas stalked into the kitchenette to tell her off, expecting a messy chaos; instead he found her cleaning up the bowl serenely in his spotless kitchenette, humming to herself, while what looked like a flat cake was cultivating sedately in his oven.

He would not admit to the aroma being appetising, and tried to bypass her to the fridge so he could fix himself something to eat.

"Be patient hahren," she blocked his attempts with a smile, "Give it ten minutes, hmm? Would you like some tea while you wait?"

"I do not drink tea," Solas hissed.

"Hmm," she dug through his pantry, lifting a packet of cocoa powder, "Hot chocolate then?"

"I can do it myself," Solas insisted tersely.

"I've got it," she stated chipperly, balancing the ingredients in one hand, waving him off dismissively with the other, "You should brush your teeth,"

Mortified, Solas was pushed out of his kitchenette, and he descended for the bathroom in a daze, trying to convince himself this was just a bizzare dream.

But alas, when he returned, there was a cup of hot chocolate set on his dining table, and the cake, or whatever it was, had been taken out of the oven; she was cutting it into pieces and slathering something that sounded sticky between any two pieces before pressing them together.

Eventually, he was presented with a plateful of small sandwich like confections, the bread part was thin and creamy looking, with specks of the vegetables she'd cut visible inside it, and the filling looked like brown jelly, or something like it.

Solas was, understandably, somewhat put off by the offerings. He was unsure if they were even edible. His stomach grumbled in protest of his better sense and he caved under the heavy expectant stare of the female Dalish, picking one that was smaller than the rest and began nibbling on the edge.

The sandwiches were still warm, and once you got past the savoury taste and hearty texture, uncommon for his usual light morning meals, it was actually quite pleasant to the palate. Solas did not even want to guess at what the brown sludge between the pieces was in actuality; he certainly had no brown sauce in his fridge to his knowledge, and he couldn't quite place the smell, taste or texture of it.

He ate four of the six sandwiches, and at his behest, she ate the rest once he had adequately assured her he was so full he could not stomach another bite. 

Solas was sitting as far away from her as possible while she ate, a feat of impressive dextertity since the table was barely big enough for one person, and was doing his best to avoid her inquisitive stare, hiding behind a veil of sullen silence.

After the awkward hush around his small dinner table had lasted for fifteen minutes, she skipped upstairs to grab one of the tomes in the attic, descended to the store and set down to read on the counter; Solas had no choice but to follow suit, starting his day abnormally early.

His only consolation was that he could possibly evict her earlier too.

This proved to be harder than usual, since she insisted on making him lunch, and dinner. When Solas pointed out his lack of groceries for two, she pledged to go get more. Solas tried to protest he could not allow her to go out on her own, (he feared she would exhibit more of her odd behaviour and tried to fix broken objects in the grocerer's, or void forbid, she'd try to barter for the goods with said services), she assured him it was no trouble.

After that it was pointless to stop the stone from rolling down the hill; he went along with her to the grocerer's to ensure no shenanigans happened. It was luckily a mostly uneventful journey, even if he had to slap, divert, grab and hold her hand to prevent her from fiddling with the freezers, keep her away from the cashier's station, ensure she did not poke and prod everything in the store, and finally distract her so he could pay for the groceries with actual money.

The grocerer was a kindly dwarven woman, who was familiar with Solas since he always shopped in the same place. She had raised an eyebrow at his company, but mercifully had not issued follow-up questions, despite the fact he was obviously at least twenty years her senior, the Dalish girl was androgynous in outward appearance, and Solas appeared, for all intents and purposes, to be holding hands with her all the time.

Solas could see the insatiable curiosity in the grocerer's eyes however, and made a hasty retreat before his Dalish associate would not accidentally speak out of turn and ruin his carefully molded placid facade anymore than she already had. 

As Solas proceeded towards the bookstore, one hand carrying the basket full of foodstuffs and the other holding the girl's hand to prevent her from wandering off, he had no doubt this visit would be talked of with the other regular patrons who gossiped like nothing else. 

The Dalish girl was a much better cook than he was, the only silver lining to his current circumstances. Although her methods were unconventional, (meaning he had had to stand watch so she would at least wash her hands between handling raw meat and other ingredients) and her recipes were not familiar with the more exotic ingredients such as pasta or any kind of mass produced human made foodstuff, the meals were delicious enough for him not to mind a second helping.

Solas tried to set some ground rules about their new arrangement as the day came to a close, but he had a feeling she would ignore any and all boundaries he attempted to attach after the fact.

He was proven right the next morning when she woke him for breakfast; mercifully, it was six, not five a.m.

\---


	5. Compromising situations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh, drama ahead! Temper tantrums don't suit you Solas. It's necessary for plot reasons, but you can expect payout for the roughness soon-ish... maybe ;) 
> 
> Ps. Added a little bonus at the end, just to try out another point of view since this ficlet is told from Solas' POV all the time, and though I love the guy, he can be pretty dry to work with. We all need a hobby.   
> Pps. I have nothing against bald people, but due to inevitable background changes, Sera can't call him Super-Elfy all the time.   
> Ppps. Sera is, as always, the sweetest cookie monster.   
> Pppps. You caught me, I rated it M for lurid hand touching. That sounded dirtier than I thought... sorry, still no smut.

Solas could grudgingly accept he could not stop his 'stray' from delving his collection of ancient manuscripts, a resource he had spent a decade carefully cultivating to perfection, and which was in no hurry of depleting in the near future. So long as she kept up a modicum of decency and worked silently, he could almost pretend she was not there. Sadly, this accounted for a pathetically small portion of the time she spent in his house. 

During his work hours, he could deal with the chaos she brought with her, but his only day off was another matter entirely.

When Sunday rolled along, Solas was determined to evict the Dalish girl so he could visit his friend. Getting through to her however, proved to be impossible.

Trying to explain why she couldn't stay in the store while Solas was away quickly became a very one-sided argument, and trying to delicately hint he had to be somewhere else got him no response.

Lacking an alternative, he was forced to plead, "I'm asking this as a favor,"

She looked up from her book at last, spearing him with a wary eye peeking from under her bangs.

"Whatever you want, name it, just please let me visit my friend without having to fear you'll set my house on fire while I am away!" Solas was desperate, in his usual state of mind, he'd have never offered such an open-ended enticement.

"I wouldn't set fire to your house, hahren," she responded with confusion, "Not.. on purpose at least," she added, nervously fiddling with the fountain pen between her fingers.

"Please," Solas grunted.

"Alright," She finally shrugged after a moment of thought, "I needed to test out the machine anyway,"

Solas recoiled, "Just like that?"

"I can do you a favor," she shrugged easily to indicate it was no skin off her back apparently, "When I need one, you'll repay it,"

"See you later, hahren," she gathered her things and was gone like she never existed.

Solas didn't believe his luck; it shouldn't have been that easy. If it had, he could have had her out of his life weeks ago! It had to be some kind of trick.

As he started up his car and began the long drive, he found himself in the grips of a growing dread of what favor she would demand later in return.

\---

 

Sophia found his predicament entertaining.

"My poor friend," she lamented falsely, "It appears that she has driven you into a corner; no wonder your game is suffering," Sophia remarked as she devoured another of his few remaining pieces on the board.

Solas grunted without a shred of amusement, "I feel like she is mocking me somehow," his mind was a mess and he found it hard to concentrate on the game at all.

"It sounds like she is concerned for your well-being my friend," Sofia ribbed him, "From what I understand of the Dalish, offering food is a sign of hospitality and respect. If she is mocking you, she is very good at hiding it,"

"It is tiring, always having to babysit her," Solas complained as he moved a piece away from an obvious trap, "It's like she does whatever catches her fancy, whenever she wants to. She has no understanding of etiquette or boundaries; did you know she washed some of her laundry with mine the other day, without my permission!"

Sophia chortled, "It sounds like she has decided you are on familiar enough terms that she can act as she chooses in your company," she sprang the second trap mercilessly, taking advantage of his inability to think ahead skillfully.

"I do not know where she got that impression," Solas growled as he massaged his aching head, "It feels like all I ever do is scold her and try to promote common sense,"

"Perhaps you are being too uptight my friend?" His friend suggested delicately, "If you allow her freer reign, what is the worst that could happen?"

"She'd likely demolish the store and put it back together again," Solas returned deadpan without a shred of humor, "Already it feels like she never leaves, if I said nothing about it, it's possible she never will!"

"And yet you are here tonight," Sophia pointed out gently, "And I see no mysterious Dalish girl anywhere; perhaps you are looking at this from the wrong perspective? How did you get her to agree to leave you in peace?"

"I... asked for a favor," Solas groaned, "A foolishly worded one for that matter,"

"Perhaps you might ask for more favors then," Sophia suggested.

"I have no idea what she'd ask in return!" Solas exclaimed, "I have no idea who she is, or what she wants; what if she asks me to do something illegal? Would I not be then obligated to agree after asking for so many favors from her?"

"It sounds like you should try to find out more about her my friend," Sophia rebuked merrily, her eyes twinkling with delight, "It is possible it might allay some of your fears, and help you in your quest to housebreak your 'stray',"

Solas gave his friend a blank stare, to which she expressed mirth in return.

"I am serious my friend," Sophia needled after her laughter had settled, "You should try to talk, act, instead of just thinking and worrying about it. Perhaps she is a reasonable sort? How will you ever know, if you are so busy trying to escape that you forget the most basic of methods how to interact with people; speaking with them,"

Solas shook his head ruefully, "Wisdom is a bitter lesson in understanding your flaws," he made the only move left for him, and with the next move she checkmated him, as expected.

"When is it not so, my friend?" Sophia chortled, "Do keep me informed on your progress; I am growing quite curious about such a force of nature that she is able to phase even you, my friend,"

Solas reluctantly kept her advice close to heart; it always bore to take heed of Sophia's words, no matter how discomforting. Only fools thought themselves all-knowing, and Solas had long since learned to respect his own ignorance and value the insight of someone as experienced as Sophia.

It was food for thought that sat in his mind like a stone in the pit of a stomach, heavy and sharp, waiting for him to trip over it. Solas would need to endeavour to step lightly.

\---

 

Solas had known accepting the appointment had been a mistake.

One did not just reschedule a visit to an already overworked dentist, when the next appointment opportunity would likely have been well into the next year. 

Solas had been foolish to believe he could trust the girl to behave for an hour without supervision. He had been lulled into complacency by her relatively good behaviour the past week since the favor; she had appeared respectful, had not completely overlooked his privacy, and had seemed too busy with studying to fix an already relatively optimally running facility.

But you could not prepare for an attack by Sera. What truly disappointed him was finding that the girl had become an accomplice.

When Solas had returned to the shop still slightly worried he was drooling from the anesthesia administered to his jaw, his first clue to things having taken a turn for the worse had been the disappearance of the Dalish girl, who did not respond to his calls, and how a whirlwind had upended all his documents on the counter, bearing distinct Sera-trademarks; sticky finger marks all over the pages and doodles of disporportionate phallic illustrations overwriting everything.

Solas could deal with simple vandalism. He was as used to being the butt of Sera's practical jokes as was possible in his current situation in life, and Solas had devised many ways to limit the damage caused. What he didn't want to deal with was the ultimate prank Sera had in store for him.

He advanced quickly through his store, hunting for possible traps; he had better luck in his kitchenette, where Sera had attempted to switch around his salt and sugar. It was relatively harmless, but from hard-won experience, not the real prank; Sera sowed whole-sale chaos, and most of the little pranks were done out of habit and a warm-up in preparation for the actual performance.

Indeed he did find the two elven girls in his bedroom; the Dalish girl was holding a large burlap sack full of what appeared to be posters, which the real culprit was busily fastening to every surface available whilst running at the mouth.

"So there I was, in the fricking biology lab at four in the morning with my arms full of iguana, and the guard walks in-" Sera was babbling as she stapled what appeared to be a picture of a very naked, very distressed woman in a lurid pose to his bookcase, "And bless my Widdle's pert butt but she talked that idiot down while I hightailed it outta there with all the scaly bits I could carry!" 

The atrociously dressed blonde elf snorted with barely supressed mirth, "The really tricky bit was getting them all in here without Baldypants catching wind of it,"

Solas felt the beginnings of a tick under his right eye as he beheld his small attic bedroom, where every possible surface was in the process of being covered in pornographic posters of every possible configuration the most perverted of lechers could come up with.

"You should have seen his face!" Sera cackled, reaching for another poster and finally noticed Solas' fuming figure in the doorway.

"Oh crud," Sera spluttered, "He's early," Without further ado, Sera scooped up the burlap sack and made a quick getaway through the purposefully wrenched open window Solas had painstakingly sealed to prevent this exact eventuality, hollering at her accomplice before she hopped out onto the roof, "Nice meeting ya! We should do this again sometime!"

Solas was just a few seconds too slow to grab hold of Sera's smug red tunic before she was out of his reach. He made do with viciously slamming the window shut, and turning on the remaining elven girl who had taken part in this perverted joke on his expense.

"Just what was the purpose of this-this nonesense?" Solas voice was like ice as he advanced on the unapologetic girl, attempting to hold a tight rein on his exploding temper, "How could you possibly think it alright to vandalise my private rooms, which I have repeatedly labelled off-limits?!"

"Sera wanted to help you relax-" The girl began and Solas lost his final modicum of sense.

"Sera is not welcome here!" Solas bellowed, "She did this to ridicule me and rile me up! And you helped her! I cannot belive you would stoop to her level; I have been nothing but patient with you, and this is how you repay me? By helping Sera molest my property?!" 

The Dalish girl's face grew annoyed, her eyes hardening to rock-like structure, but Solas' tone could grind rock to dust by this point, "I don't want to hear any excuses! You will to take these travesties down right now, and then you will clean the void-damned store of Sera's mess you aided and abetted, or so help me I will put you over my knee until you are really sorry!" Solas threatened, pulling her off the table and shoving her hard towards the wall.

The girl stared at him like she had never seen him before. Solas scowled back, his tone implacable, "Now," he pointed to the posters, trying hard not to see the perversions depicted within.

The girl set her jaw, but seeing no escape after he blocked her escape several times and shoved her back towards the wall, she unwillingly began tearing down the posters, which Solas collected and crumpled up savagely in a trash sack he retrieved from his desk drawer; another unfortunate lesson from Sera's previous campaigns against him.

It took an hour until his bedroom was poster free and clean of trash, and by then a tense atmosphere had began stewing between them, like thunderclouds roiling overhead.

The Dalish girl left early that day, and Solas was glad to see her go.

The next morning the girl was still giving him the cold shoulder, but his vindicated elation at having quiet time to himself was somewhat subdued when he discovered that Sera had added a new trick to her arsenal; his cocoa had been spiked with chili powder, enough to make his eyes water and his mouth lose all sense of taste for the rest of the day.

Solas dumped the remains of his cocoa in the bin and wished bitterly that Sera could be paid back in kind, but knowing well he could neither stoop to her level of depravity nor find anything equal to the annoyance he had suffered the could be inflicted with equal results on the irreverent and unphaseable elven girl.

\---

 

The cool atmosphere lasted throughout the next week. 

The second Sunday since their new arrangement was a daunting prospect to bargain for in the current mood permeating the air around the girl. He was feeling decidedly cornered by the favors he kept piling up, looming behind him like a mountain of due bills.

Solas hated being in debt. It was a looser form of imprisonment, with someone holding the leash in a loose noose, squeezed tight exactly when he expected it the least.

Solas really should have put all the contracts in writing, but that might just depress him more rather than set his mind at ease. He was beginning to loose count of the tally, if he even had it right to begin with because of the hundred little things she did each day, and he was not sure how to balance them right.

The simplest solution was to demand her to write an appropriate list and work out some sort of 'payment' plan, but his mouth clammed up with annoyance whenever he tried. To a childish part of his heart he had long thought himself past in terms of maturity, it would be admitting he considered himself in debt and at her mercy.

Solas intensely disliked feeling weak and powerless, nevermind being bound to the whims of a Dalish girl, who had barged in on his life.

After hours of fruitless one-sided arguing, which she had ignored, Solas' usual serene countenance cracked.

"What do you want from me?!" He slammed his fists down hard enough to make the girl and everything else on the counter jump.

The Dalish girl blinked, her mouth stuck in an o-shape of surprise at his sudden vehemence.

"Is it money?" Solas snarled, "Because I hardly have any! You won't take books, and you keep making me incur more and more unnamed favors; what is it you want?!"

"Nothing," she squeaked, forced into the debate at last.

Solas scoffed in disbelief, "Everyone wants something,"

Her cheeks were flushed and she fingered the fountain pen she was holding nervously, avoiding his eye underneath her bangs, and Solas restrained the impulse to grab a pair of scissors to shear them off so he could force her to look at him.

"Well?" Solas demanded impatiently, "Answer the question!"

"I just thought-," the girl faltered dejectedly, stunned into honesty, "I thought you looked lonely,"

"I never asked you to burst into my life like this! What if I like being lonely?! Did you ever consider that?" Solas snapped back.

The girl hung her head, and Solas could barely make out her murmured reply, "No one wants to be alone,"

Solas slammed his forehead onto the counter instead of giving in to his baser impulses and start shaking her by the shoulders.

"I'm sorry," she sounded near tears, "I was just trying to help, after you helped me so much-,"

And just like that, Solas had become the heartless villain. Why did he ever bother opening his mouth?

"Get out," Solas' voice was muffled, but his tone brooked no objections.

He heard her gather her things and slip out, the store bell clanging jarred his raw conscience with its cheery jangle.

It made no sense why he only felt more miserable by sending her away. 

\---

 

Sophia listened to him with a stony countenance as Solas ranted about his miserable week, cluminating with that final outburst. After he was done catching his breath, she tsked in disappointment that only served to pour a fresh layer of shit on his already strained state of mind.

"My friend," Sophia chastised him softly, "It appears to me that you owe that young lady an apology,"

Solas crossed his arms defensively, "No, I appreciate you trying to help, but I want nothing to do with her anymore,"

"Ordinarily I am content to let you live your life as you choose," Sophia retorted sharply, "However, in this case I strongly advise you to think twice. Listen to yourself; is this your trauma talking, or what you truly desire?"

Solas glared into the distance, refusing to answer even as his heart fell into a churning chasm of guilt.

"She has been nothing but kind to you," Sophia pressed her point home like a sharp stiletto through his ribcage, "She cannot change her cultural background, and since you have not bothered to find out about it from her, you cannot accept that perhaps she truly is being sincere and kind from her viewpoint. Perhaps when viewed from her perspective, she has been showing you deference and respecting your privacy,"

"Should she still come to you tomorrow in spite of this, my friend," Sophia suggested with the firmness of a royal command, "I urge you to apologise if nothing else. Whether she accepts it or not, you do owe her that much,"

Sophia berated him with similar statements throughout the rest of his visit, and Solas' mood only soured further with each well-meaning lecture.

It was all her fault; that damnable stray. She was ruining everything, his friendships, his work, his life...

Yet, the rage felt hollow in his gut, echoing off empty walls in the silence that had never bothered him before, but which now stifled him and clung to his heart like a barb of pure spite.

Solas paced inside his quiet and dark house and tried to feel happy about the unexpected calm, but his mind was a far cry from achieving serenity. Solas followed his set routine, did everything like he always did, but instead of reveling in the simplicity, all he could think about was how utterly lonely he was; a truth he had always known and thought himself long reconciled with.

Until now. 

'You looked lonely', she'd said. Solas scoffed inwardly as he brushed his teeth with unnecessary force; of course he was, even a blind fool could see that much, but it took a special kind of fool to force their company on someone else without provocation! 

Solas glared at his reflection in the small bathroom mirror before he rinsed his mouth, now tasting of iron as his gums protested the rough treatment.

Solas laid down in his rickety old bed hoping to find some measure of peace in sleep, but instead of the usual tiredness after a day of activity, his eyes were held open by restlessness, spurred by Sophia's words and his doubts burning in his gut; as a result, he tossed and turned all night, unable to rest.

\---

 

It was only because Solas was still awake that he heard the distinct sound of his kitchenette being used. Solas checked the cheerily glowing display of his alarm clock, informing him it was five o'clock in the morning.

Dressing with haste Solas skipped downstairs where he found his stray, her face scrunched unhappily, pounding her frustration into batter.

It was the most idiotic act he had ever seen in his life. Why was she still here? What had he done to deserve this kind of loyalty? Was she a masochist, when all Solas seemed to be capable of was hurting her feelings over and over, and yet she still tried to be good to him and show him respect?

It was easier to stomach that she was only doing it to keep her hands on the books, than contemplate that she truly did care and wanted him to feel better.

A wave of guilt suffocated him from within, and he watched on in absolute silence while she muttered to herself in that broken form of elvish her people had perfected, likely cursing Solas' ungrateful hide as she prepared food for him anyway.

Hesitantly, Solas tapped her shoulder and said her name aloud for the first time.

"Ellana," he murmured, and she spun around so suddenly Solas was almost smeared by whatever foul concoction Ellana had been meaning to feed him today.

She backed away from him, hugging the bowl tightly and trying to prevent any spills. Ellana put on her best brave face to hide her fright and dismay at being caught.

"I'm sorry," Solas offered, the only words he could manage to choke out in his current state of mind.

Ellana looked him up and down like a wild animal, expecting violence. Not unfairly, Solas admitted with shame.

Solas grimaced, glancing at the bowl, he licked his lips and cleared his throat in an effort to regain his voice, "Can I help?" He offered hoarsely.

"It's almost done anyway," Ellana looked away, idly fondling the brownish-greyish, slightly too-fluid-for-comfort matter her right hand was half sunken into.

Solas took the bowl from her hands anyway and began ladling the dough into the pan she had set aside for it.

"Wash your hands," Solas reminded her, "How long does it need?" Solas queried after he had put the mixture in the oven.

"A-an hour," Ellana warily replied, "I thought you'd sleep in like usual so it'd be ready by the time you got up," she mumbled with embarrassment.

Solas took out his usual timer, which she never used, and set it for fifty minutes.

He gathered the dirty dishes and deposited them into his washbasin, letting them rinse. The methodic routine calmed him enough to soothe the worst of his anxiety.

Ellana had not made a move to wash her hand, standing stock still whilst she observed him, and unknowingly was dribbling the sticky batter everywhere. Solas took hold of her hand gently and placed it under the running faucet, and he began cleaning her stunned fingers himself. 

The dough was particularly sticky and stuck between her delicate fingers like glue, "What is it?" Solas huffed with a frown, trying to angle his nose away from her hair which was inconveniently stuck all over his face, tickling him mercilessly.

She replied with a convoluted Dalish word from which Solas thought he made out the word bread. It was as good an explanation as any he decided, as he used a dish rag to dry her hand.

Solas released his hold on her and shooed her towards the oven whilst he began tackling the dishes.

"Put the kettle on, please; there should still be some Seheron black in the back," he grunted, feeling the need for some form of energy booster; undoubtably he would be paying for his sleepless night later, but the caffeine would help. He firmly refused to touch the horribly addictive drug the humans called coffee, but though he detested tea, he could suffer it when necessary.

Ellana followed his orders, shooting him confounded glares now and again.

She was still angry, a perfectly justifiable a stance after the way he had been treating her. Solas wasn't sure if he was just too tried to care anymore, but the whole argument seemed pointless now he could step back to admire the absurdity. One more folly, born of his desperate need to keep to himself, after too many years adjusted to environments where he was never secure or safe, nevermind in company.

Ellana was here to stay, and he would need to adjust to accomodate it; not just in the physical realm but in his mind. It was a hard lesson to to turn into reality, but sometimes things changed and there was nothing for it but to move on with the times or be ground to dust under time's inevitable march forward.

Despite appearances, the bread was delicious and though nothing would improve the taste of tea, it managed to make the meal a little better for his abused palette. When he thanked Ellana for the food sincerely, he even managed to elicit a small smile from her lips.

Somehow it made his long day seem less tiring.

\---

 

Bonus one-shot;

Sera was busily picking the lock on the front door to the bookstore when the handle turned and the door was opened from the inside, sending Sera sprawling onto the pavement in a slew of curses.  
When she looked up, an unfamiliar elven girl was observing her, her eyes wide and green like a cat's and just as unblinking, creeping Sera out thoroughly.

"Who the hell're you?" Sera brusquely demanded, looking the stranger up and down disbelievingly; she hadn't believed Dorian's wild claims of Baldypants having scored a girlfriend, and she still didn't. 

That very conversation had sparked her brilliant plan for today, and it would be wasted if Baldypants really had found himself someone weird and stupid enough to be tapped willingly by his freaky bits.

"I'm Ellana," the girl introduced herself coolly, "What were you doing?"

"Picking the lock, stupid," Sera blew a raspberry, "'S the only way inside, innit?"

"It was open," Ellana smoothly pointed out, "You were actually locking it,"

Sera swore, "No wonder the damn thing was stuck! Makes more sense than him actually bothering to change the stupid shite locks to give me a challenge,"

"I did suggest an improvement, but he refused me," the girl shrugged, "I'm still working on making an unpickable lock, but haven't had time to test it yet,"

Sera made a face, "What?" She scrunched her nose, "What'dja mean unbreakable lock?"

The girl wandered back inside, and Sera, not one to turn down an opportunity, followed her, taking care to lock the door behind her; no sense alerting Baldy too soon.

Ellana, or whatever her name was, ugh Elfy elfs and their weird names, was rummaging in her satchel until she produced a metal plate with a lock on it, and placed it next to a huge-ass book on the store counter. 

Sera looked between the expectant girl and the plate, and in this light she could make out the weird tattoos on her face. Sera rolled her eyes; just her luck, another elfy elf solidarity claptrap worshipper, who thought themselves better'n the rest of them just 'cause of a few scribbles on their faces. 

"So, what, you want me to pick it?" Sera moved her attention to the counter, her fingers itching to go through Baldypants' private books.

Ellana nodded, producing a key which audibly clicked as she turned it, letting out a suspiciously clockwork sound in the aftermath.

Sera shrugged, dropping the huge sack off her back, and settled behind the counter, taking out her lockpicks to twiddle with it whilst her other hand was looking for a felt pen.

It soon became apparent that simply twirling her lockpick wouldn't produce the wanted result, so Sera picked another to help it along. It took her fifteen agonising minutes of sweating and swearing to break the practise lock open, and by then Sera wanted to smash the girl's creepy stare into it.

The girl nodded and put away the lock, "Thank you. I think I know where I went wrong, the next one will be better,"

"Why you working on Baldypants' locks anyway?" Sera snapped with annoyance, picking up the books and began to doodle willy-nilly as revenge.

"Hahren's knowledge is valuable and should be adequately protected," the girl replied seriously, making Sera groan in disgust.

The girl turned her disquieting eyes to Sera's sketches, "Why are you drawing so many-" she began but Sera made tetchy signs for silence.

"Hush you! It's your fault I'm behind schedule," Sera picked up more books and gave them the Sera-treatment, adding artistic flourishes to her detailed depictions, "Are you really his squeeze?" Sera demanded.

"Hahren does not squeeze me?" the girl responded uncertainly.

"Knew it," Sera scoffed, "Dorian is so full of it,"

"You know Professor Pavus?" Ellana sounded surprised.

"Well, yeah," Sera shrugged, "Who'd ya think introduced him to the big guy? He could lose a bit more Tevinter, but he's pretty fun,"

When Sera was satisfied with the doodlets she picked up her sack and proceeded upstairs, the odd girl trailing after her.

"So why're you hanging about Baldy's bachelor pad?" Sera asked as she raided his pantry, making necessary changes here and there, chomping down a piece of leftover chocolate she found in the back, "Don't tell me you're prowling about hoping to score with him?"

"Score what?" Ellana cocked her head in confusion.

"You know!" Sera snorted, fishing in her backpack for a packet of chili before mixing it in the leftover cocoa powder, "Phowar!" She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, throwing a teasing grin over her shoulder.

The girl stared back neutrally.

"Bag of laughs you are," Sera grumbled, closing the pantry. 

Cackling gleefully, she hopped upstairs and began unpacking her master plan.

"Hold this," Sera swore as she busied herself arming her weapon of choice, and threw off her burden; Ellana grunted as she caught the sack awkwardly.

Sera rummaged for the first poster from the sack, snickering as she hefted a stapler and went to work.

"Why all these different-" the girl queried, fiddling through the collection with a frown, betraying no visible signs of being bothered by the racy pictures.

Sera explained impatiently as she picked a second poster, "It's simple really; no one knows, or wants to know, what Baldy likes or doesn't like, so I had to cover all the bases. It's just as bit of fun, he's so royally stuck up in his own ass all the time, I figured he benefit from some... exploration. In other people's asses,"

"Pfft," Sera snorted at her own cleverness, "Maker knows he needs to get laid, but the way he goes about it, this might be the closest he'll ever get"

Ellana considered this duly whilst Sera pinned up five more posters.

"That's considerate of you," The girl decided, "Hahren does so much work, he should lie down more. Although I don't understand why pictures of-"

"Are you mental?" Sera scoffed, "It's not hard to understand!"

"No it's not?" Ellana must be one simple minded girl, or another nut job like Baldy.

"Boy, you two are damn perfect for each other," Sera grumbled.

"Do you do this kind of thing often for Hahren?" The girl changed subject.

"He's a tough customer," Sera replied, going for poster number eleven, "I like a challenge, and mashing his buttons is sorta fun because it's not easy,"

Sera frowned at the amusement coloring Ellana's face, she pointed her stapler threateningly at the grinning girl, "Don't you dare tell him I said that, or I'll staple your mouth shut,"

"I won't," the girl made an innocent, placating gesture.

"Alright..." Sera scrunched her face warily.

"How did you and Hahren meet?" The girl asked conversationally.

"Look, you want me to have time enough to yap about Baldy's dirty secrets, you gotta help me out," Sera threw back, "Grab a stapler and prove you've got balls, or get out,"

"Alright," Ellana complied, grabbing a stapler without further comment.

"What? Really?" Sera did a double take, reassessing the girl's potential.

"Why not? It's been a while since I helped prank someone," the girl picked up a particularly racy two-on-two and put it up.

Sera burst into cackles, "Yes! Now we're getting somewhere!"

With a widening grin, Sera began babbling, "The first time I came here was because Baldy..."

Ellana listened attentively, laughing at the appropriate spots in soft, breathy snorts mixed with giggles that sounded absolutely ridiculous on her too-serious-for-her-own-good face.

Sera decided the girl was alright in her books.

\---


	6. When things get out of hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still not clear of the drama zone, I'm afraid. Prepare for trouble, and make it double! Solas screws up, and Solas deals with it like an idiot; what else is new?
> 
> Ps. Medically speaking, I have no idea if this is accurate or not, so bear with me. The worst injury I have faced is a bout of allergies every spring. But I've got imagination to make up for it.  
> Pps. Anise is the poor elven servant from Haven in the early game, who has the worst luck, enjoys ice skating, and wishes she could afford to travel to exciting places, like Rivain.  
> Ppps. Solas Greatly (Dis)approves of scantily clad women.  
> Pppps. Time skips, because there are only so many ways you can rephrase, 'they sat in awkward silence and Solas tried his best to ignore her while she read books', or 'Solas brooded about Ellana, again'.

Solas realised it had been almost three months since he had 'adopted' the stray Dalish girl.

They still didn't talk much, as was his preference; it kept personal defects and the varied other problems of emotional entanglements out of the equation. Ellana studied, and Solas acted as the librarian and library, with housing benefits thrown in.

She had barely made a dent in his collection, despite being a surprisingly diligent worker; Ellana spent a good six to eight hours each day poring over the tomes and making advanced calculations. It was likely well above what most average students did on their summer break, or even what her professors did during summer break.

Ellana took breaks by maintaining his equipment, fixing up his house, or making them food if he was not quick about it. Aside from a few unfortunate experiments, which had cut his water main for two days or the time she took apart his readout, it had been a lot less chaotic to allow her some leeway, which was likely the only reason Solas had retained his sanity and was not a nervous wreck.

He still avoided the whole 'getting to know her' issue, despite Sophia's prodding. Ellana called him hahren, Solas called her da'len; it worked for her, it worked for him.

But he had noted a few peculiarities. You were bound to when you spent over six hours every day in each other's company.

The primary one was that she preferred to use her right hand over her left, to the point of absurdity, and that she kept the left one inside a glove and wore long sleeves despite the summer heat. She did not explain, and Solas didn't feel like he was owed an answer, so he let it be.

There were other oddities, but the thing that perplexed Solas the most, was how carefree she appeared.

Ellana wandered wherever she wanted to go, imitating the feline he had first associated her with. Solas would find her in the strangest places; hidden behind mountains of books, curled up on his sofa, sitting on his kitchenette counter, once he even found her belly down on his bed, her feet idly tapping against the other as she browsed one of his lexicons.

Solas was perhaps more surprised at his own compliance to his changed circumstances. After that spat a few weeks ago, they had settled into a kind of routine and Ellana's easy manner had returned by inches, and Solas was beginning to relax into his-

His reverie was interrupted when he heard an audible crash from upstairs. He bounded up the stairs in dread, expecting a flash fire.

Solas was relieved when he found her swearing to herself, standing over what appeared to be little better than a jigsaw puzzle comprised of chunks of porcelain.

"Stop," Solas bade her sternly, "Don't move, I'll clean it up," he hurried to gather his broom and dustbin, carefully sweeping away all the shards he could find.

"I'm sorry hahren-" she said in a small voice, holding her left arm with shaking fingers.

"Are you hurt, Ellana?" Solas worried as he looked her over, but saw no visible shrapnel born wounds, his eyes drawn to the left arm she was cradling, "Did you hurt your hand? Let me see-"

"I'm fine!" She hissed, pulling away from his touch, her complexion pale as if having seen a ghost.

"Don't be afraid," Solas said soothingly, "Let me see your hand; if there is any shrapnel it needs to be removed immediately," he reasoned with her.

He slowly reached for her hand, guiding her to the sofa before he examined it.

The glove was torn, some blood splattered on the fabric, and he sighed, "I'll need my pincers, don't move," he commanded and headed for his medicine cabinet in the kitchenette for first aid supplies. 

Solas remembered a few of the less lucky glass born wounds he had encountered. They were one of the nastiest of injuries you'd encounter, when even the smallest sliver left in place would keep cutting long past the skin healing outwardly. If she had a lot of shrapnel, he would need to take her to the emergency room, for he was no surgeon and the little he knew about first aid applied to brawls and minor injuries.

When Solas returned, armed with his meticulously stocked kit, he had to coax her to extend the wounded hand, which was no picnic with the way she was possessively cradling it to her chest. It took some doing, but eventually by gratuitous amounts of soothing words and kind forebearance, she allowed the glove to be carefully removed.

But what Solas found underneath was.... not what he had expected.

Her skin had torn and she appeared to have gotten away with a simple open laceration on her palm with no visible shrapnel in sight, but that was not the true cause of Solas' alarm.

What really shocked him was the state of the arm altogether; her skin was disfigured and raw up until her elbow, the skin splotchy and peeling in places, her fingers crooked and stiff, a strong medicinal waft emanating because of whatever oil she used to treat her condition.

The glove was in fact little better than gauze, meant to prevent infection and the material had been designed to breathe, not prevent contact with sharp objects.

But on her face were no traces of pain, despite the obvious bleeding wound. Her fingers didn't even twitch.

"This is beyond me," Solas inhaled sharply, "We should get you to a hospital-"

"No!" Ellana begged, trying to wriggle out of his reach.

"Your hand-"

"I-I can take care of it myself! I don't want to go to a hospital! You can't make me!" She sounded genuinely terrified.

"Ellana, your hand might begin to fester-"

"I can deal with it myself!" She protested, cold sweat was running on her deathly pale face.

She began squirming in earnest, and fearing she would hurt herself, Solas pulled her into a lock hold, meaning she was trapped in his lap by a cage made out of his feet and hands.

"Calm down," Solas bade her, using the hand not holding her arm still to pet her hair, "I'll disinfect it and we'll patch it up, no hospital necessary," he assured her, smoothing her ruffled feathers by soft words and fingers combing through her dark tresses.

She nodded tersely, her body was stiff in his arms and shaking from anxiety, whilst he angled her hand, "This is going to sting," he warned her as he prepared a swab to dab at her wound.

But Ellana didn't react at all despite the agony of having an open wound treated with a solution of pure alcohol. Her fingers didn't even twitch from the sting!

Solas observed her cool distance despite her hand being subjected to pain beyond measure, comparing it to the acute fear she had displayed when threatened by the prospect of intesive care in a hospital, but he was unable to discern the pattern behind it.

Using what little skill he had, Solas fashioned a kind of tourniquet around her palm.

Despite him finishing the job, Ellana remained in his arms, shivering and her face numbed by terror.

"Ellana," Solas sought a way to frame his question so he did not upset her, "Your hand-" his voice faltered.

"I cannot feel how hard I am gripping things," she confessed with a soft whimper, "I-I forgot, and underestimated the strength of the plate, I am sorry hahren, I will get you a new-"

"No," Solas swiftly reprimanded her, "It's fine. I am only relieved you are not injured," 

She tugged her hand out of his grasp, holding it close to her chest, and Solas didn't stop her from crawling out of his lap and redressing the injured hand in the teared glove.

He sighed inwardly. Why was nothing simple with this girl?

"I have some spare gloves somewhere," Solas eventually mumbled. He escaped the awkward silence upstairs to dig through his sparse clothing chest for a pair of gloves, but when he returned, Ellana was nowhere to be found.

Solas rubbed his temples and threw the gloves aside irritably.

\---

 

Perhaps it was better this way, Solas tried to convince himself.

The worst of the summer heat had arrived with the beginning of July. His store was like a sauna; Ellana's left hand would not have fared well in the sweltering atmosphere, likely inflaming her wound and possibly causing harm to her delicate, disfigured skin.

Perhaps that was why she was avoiding him. Not that he blamed her, even Solas wished he could escape the oppressive steamy atmosphere of his little shop.

During the long, sweaty days of July, after many discussion on the subject with Sophia, Solas came to the conclusion he could have handled the 'injured hand' situation better. Solas could tell he had accidentally stumbled on something intensely personal he had no right to announce to strangers; it limited his ability to truly dig into the matter and try to glean understanding from Ellana's behavior.

But as July progressed towards August, Solas was getting genuinely troubled by her lack of contact.

He couldn't exactly just chase after her; him asking after a physical description of a young female elf would likely cause more revulsion than sincere aid. The days crawled forward at a pace that frustrated even his patience, and made him irritable and his dreams restless. He kept picturing all the things that could have gone wrong with her, and despaired how he'd never know.

When August ended and the new semester began at the Academy, Solas expected she'd be back any day. The days slowed down to a trickle as his mind grew more hopeful and impatient; Solas pulled up her discarded notes and the lexicon he had bookmarked for her after Ellana' departure, setting them near the counter for her, waiting each day with one ear to the door, and was disappointed each time the store bell rang and the familiar petite form of the dusky skinned, raven haired girl was not there.

He waited for a week, and another, but she didn't show.

Desperate, Solas reluctantly turned to the one source of knowledge on her whereabouts he had left; namely one Dorian Pavus.

"Aren't you overreacting a bit?" Dorian scoffed over the rim of his coffee mug, "You do know it's the first month and none of the second years and upwards will even bother showing up yet; things won't perk up until late October at best,"

Solas really wanted to slap Dorian, but controlled himself. He couldn't take out his fear for Ellana's condition and frustration with himself on Dorian, no matter how much the pompous nobleman deserved a good smacking.

"Can you at least inform me if she has been seen?" Solas pleaded with clipped tones.

"Did you toss her out at last, or did she run away?" Dorian joked, "Lighten up, the girl likely got bored hanging around your boring shop all day. You know kids these days; unless it has ethernet access and a camera, its not worth their time,"

Solas had no choice but to wait; he was trapped in limbo and it was all his own doing. Pestering Dorian would get him nowhere.

"I wouldn't worry too much," Dorian comforted him with a sympathetic expression, "She'll be back before you know it,"

Solas morosely amended, "It's been two months, Dorian,"

"Perhaps she got a summer job? That's practically given among the student populace during summer break. Relax Solas, she's a smart girl, she can take care of herself," Dorian reassured him and set down his empty mug, "If I see her around, I'll tell her to pop over so you don't worry yourself to death,"

Solas watched Dorian leave with a debonair grin, and for once, he hoped Dorian was right. 

\---

 

By mid-October Solas could no longer bear the nightmares of her being alone, fighting injury and infection borne complications, or her lying dead in some gutter; he had to know so he could at least apologise to her, if nothing else.

This proved to be more challenging a task than expected. How did you track down a single student he knew precious little about in a city the size of Haven? 

Oh, he could go on for three pages detailing her various personal idiosyncrasies, but that rang a bit hollow when he only had a first name and a physical description with no easy, satisfactory explanation as to why he was looking for her in the first place.

Solas couldn't file a missing person report, not without the authorities giving the persons of interest a once over, and he was aware his case would seem more suspicious than sympathy inducing. He had a sense of self-preservation; the likelihood of him being arrested on the spot on suspicion of being the abductor of the girl was not unheard of.

Posting flyers was pointless without a proper identifying picture, and whilst he could probably draw a reasonable likeness, it had been years since he had last drawn anything significant or practised so it might only make things worse. Not to mention that the reliability of any information obtained in this manner was sketchy at best, and adding a reward as incentive was both useless for his ultimate goal as well as wasteful in terms of both time and resources; he might as well be asking for opportunists to fake information for the sake of money.

He could demand the Academy hand over contact information, but they wouldn't release it to anyone other than a proven blood relation with an invoice from the student that allowed the transfer of knowledge.

It all came back to the only resource he had left. Namely blackmailing Dorian.

It was why Solas had forced himself to abandon the store and drag himself to the Academy grounds under a pretense, just so Solas could corner Dorian in his ostentatious office and demand he use his Professor status to get him the contact information.

"You do realise you are likely making a lot of fuss over nothing, old boy?" Dorian retorted after his hysterical laughter died down at seeing Solas outside of his shop in his 'rags'.

Solas glared at Dorian.

"She's young, reasonably attractive, and quite smart," Dorian reminded him, "What if she found someone younger to hook-up with, and wouldn't appreciate an old fogey-"

"Dorian," Solas snapped, trying to control his temper, "All I want to know that she is alright. I don't care what she's doing, or who with, I just really need to know that she is safe,"

"Really? A pretty Dalish girl practically moves in with you, and you didn't tap her once?" Dorian scoffed, "There's no need to be modest. Hooking up happens-"

"There was nothing of the sort," Solas growled, "Give me the information and I'll get out of your hair Dorian, stop wasting time,"

Dorian grumbled as he finally opened his readout station, glaring at him disapprovingly, "I was just trying to be friendly, no need to bite my head off,"

Solas controlled his breathing as he waited.

The change of expression on Dorian's face made his heart drop like a stone.

"She's signed up," he informed Solas warily, "But there is a problem..."

"Just tell me," Solas growled impatiently.

"Well..." Dorian hesitated, "There's no current address. Not even a phone number. Just a complete blank,"

Solas smacked his forehead with his palms and rubbed his face with a groan, "And why, pray tell, has your Academy allowed her to sign-up without a permanent address?!" He barked.

"There are over twenty thousand students enrolled Solas," Dorian tried to console him, "I'm sure it's just a mistake,"

Solas was half-out the door before Dorian hollered, "I've got her address for last year if it's any help?"

 

\---

 

Solas tried not to grimace under the scrutiny of the hall director.

"You a relative?" The plump human woman, ensconsed behind the reception desk like a self-important private secretary, demanded gruffly.

"Yes," Solas lied because it was the simplest approach, "I tried sending letters to her new address but they were rerouted; perhaps you could help me find her?"

The prim old woman readjusted her reading glasses, and rearranged her spotless and over-organised desk for show, "I would have you know, sir, that girl is no longer welcome in this house," she stated overbearingly after a considerable pause for effect.

"And why is that?" Solas feigned surprise, although he could guess...

"She disrespected curfew, dismantled public property, caused one too many blackouts with those 'experiments' of hers, and almost burnt down this establishment!" The woman steamrolled the offenses in terms of severity judging by her hysterical tone of voice, all pretense of dignity evaporating.

"No, she had to go," the director justified herself haughtily after she regained her composure, daring him to prove her wrong, "We evicted her and banned her from all Academy dormitories almost five months ago now. I do not care what happened to that... that-" the woman glanced at Solas' ears before amending the probably racist derogatory term she originally had in mind, "That meance! I would have switched her for her insolence if I could. Young children raised by too lenient parents are the pestilence of modern society. A good old fashioned whipping would have done that girl a world of good,"

Solas tried not to grind his teeth together; if she had been evicted from her dorm, no wonder she had practically mooched in his shop at all hours of the day. If she had only said something...

"Do you have any idea where she might have gone?" Solas demanded with as much calm as he could muster, "Did she have any friends?"

"We don't allow that sort of thing here," the woman blushed, obviously jumping the gun on his innocent insinuation, "She was an odd one, but at least she didn't bring any trouble of that sort here," the woman amended bitterly.

"Could I speak to her roommate?" Solas scrounged for even the faintest clue.

"I suppose," the old woman eyed him suspiciously, "Wait here, I'll go see if she is in," Solas doubted that this woman didn't know exactly who was in and who was not, judging by her meticulous bookkeeping. She just wanted to preen with self-importance and lord it over a 'relative' of a girl she despised.

Solas paced in the lobby, his thoughts stormy and buzzing restlessly in his blood. Solas was losing hope, and it was all his fault. If he had only ran after her that day...

The woman eventually returned to the lobby accompanied by a skittish looking elven girl.

"This is Anise," the woman introduced the timid brunette.

The girl bobbed a hasty curtsy under the expectant eyes of the director.

"How do you do sir," she obediently added.

"Mister Wolfe wondered if you knew the current whereabouts of your former roommate," the older woman prompted.

"Um," the girl nervously fingered her sleeve.

"As I told you," the old woman sneered, "Are you satisfied?"

Solas glowered at the director, before adressing the student, "If you can help me find her, I would much appreciate it," he pleaded more gently than he had with the pretentious human.

The girl flushed, then cleared her throat, "She talked about having one of those traveling trailers nearby, I think, since the director forbade her from using the common room for her experiments," she murmured.

Solas felt hope bloom in his chest. If she truly were Dalish, then perhaps she had brought her own aravel with her? He wasn't sure if they could have personal aravels; books on Dalish culture were not exactly bountiful or terribly accurate... not that Solas would admit to having scrounged the world for any sort of studies done on Dalish culture since Ellana's disappearance in the hopes they might explain away his doubts and alleviate his fears.

The timid girl nodded, "It shouldn't be far. She walked everywhere," her voice gained some confidence.

"Thank you for your help," Solas sincerely thanked her, "Ma serannas da'len. You have given me some hope where I had none. I wish you a successful semester," he bade, and didn't bother offering any such courtesy to the rude human woman as he left the dorms behind.

\----

Back in his car Solas pulled out an old map from his glove box and noted at least four different possible parking spots for a vehicle the size of a large trailer. There was sadly nothing for it, but to drive to each one and ask after Ellana, who would certainly have stood out, if not for anything else, then the fact she was likely performing some dubious experiments and tried to barter for everything in services rather than money.

The first two were busts, but the third pointed him towards a National Reservation park nearby where she had likely moved on to after her eviction in June. It was also closer to his little shop than the other parking lots, so it fit.

It was close to nightfall when he finally located her. It was rather hard not to; the aravel stuck out like a sore thumb among the few remaining outdoorlife enthusiasts, who had decidedly less scrap-metal and self-made looking trailers, and boasted a distinct lack of tribal paint adorning the sides.

Solas was somewhat apprehensive about approaching her. He knew where she was now, hadn't he accomplished his mission? If she didn't want to see him, there had to be a perfectly good reason for it, and he should respect her privacy (even if she had never respected his).

But after months of pure unadulturated worry gnawing at his bones, he found himself exiting his car and hesitantly knocking on the door, strangely at the back end of the trailer, rather than the side.

There was a distinct sound of haste and the crash of someone wading through what sounded like a sea of scrap metal, a few muttered oaths included, before she banged open the door angrily, "I told you, its not ready yet! I still need to-"

Ellana froze when her eyes adjusted to the gloom outside the trailer and realised who she was talking to.

Solas had frozen for a very different reason. It mostly consisted of what she wasn't wearing, which from his current unfortunate viewpoint, was most of it. Her body was clad in a shift that was both worn, threadbare, and pink, with the remains of embroidery of what he supposed to be kittens on the hem; it was so old and small, it barely fit her very much adult body, and frankly her decidedly less childlike assets were left mostly hanging out in the open because of it. 

She showed no shame at being so underdressed, instead demanding coldly, "What are you doing here?"

Solas sought safety in the angry expression on her face rather than focusing on the sheer amount of thigh and other things she was displaying brazenly, "I..." he tried to remember the speech he had readied in his head for weeks now, but could not seem to recall anything much beyond the almost see-through shift.

"I came to see if you were alright," Solas hastily added as Ellana began closing the door in disgust, "I was worried something bad had happened to you!" 

"I'm fine, as you can see," she crossed her arms, which really did nothing to help him stay objective, and he tried to focus on her bare left forearm instead of the obvious, looking for clues that she had recovered from the incident, "Now please leave, I'm in the middle of something, and it's cold out here," Ellana declared as she shut the door in his face.

"Have you been living here?" Solas hammered on the door, "It's October, and it's been raining for weeks! I wouldn't be surprised if the first snows were coming the way the weather is. What about thieves, or people who might wish you harm? Ellana, please," Solas' voice faltered as he began to digest what he had learnt.

He wasn't sure what he was even saying it anymore, the reality of her living here, alone, was suddenly pressed into his skin like an uncomfortable icicle sliding down into his gut; what was she thinking? She could get mugged, raped or worse, killed, if she staid here; a lone elf girl was a target, even in a place as safe as Haven.

Ellana ignored him, and after pointlessly hovering by the door for half an hour, he stalked off towards his car, fuming, scared, and simmering with rage for reasons he couldn't understand.

One of residents of the other trailers opened his door as he passed, calling out to him, "You know Miss Ellana?" The obnoxiously accented elderly voice demanded.

Solas glanced at the older human man with a beer belly and sensible travel worn clothes, standing framed against the entrance of his lighted trailer, with the face of an elderly lady peeking from behind his shoulder to get a look at Solas.

"Yes," Solas saw no point in denying it.

The elderly couple exchanged a glance, then the older man made welcoming motions, "Pop inside for some tea would you?"

The woman added, "We got some apple pie too,"

"That's kind of you but-" Solas frowned and tried to decline.

"Nonesense! Any friend of Ellie's is a friend of ours!" The woman declared, "Come in, don't be shy! We got enough to go round, and the Watterson's are out for the day, so it needs eating up,"

The old man shrugged in the universal language of husbands indicating his wife was not to be denied when she got like this.

Seeing no polite way to decline, and beset by curiosity about Ellana's life here, Solas found himself ensconsed around a very cramped little kitchen area, drinking tea and chewing on apple pie. The trailer smelt strongly of peppermint for some reason.

The elderly pair introduced themselves as Bill and Maisy Dorrit, from Lothering, who were spending their retirment seeing the world on wheels. With all their children having flown the nest to all corners of the world, they had nothing better to do than visit them and take in the scenery on the side, which after four decades cramped in a tiny office in a building crammed with a thousand other similar cubicles had seemed like a much better alternative than settling down.

Solas listened politely to the couple's lifestory, and accepted a second slice of apple pie, but not a refill.

"But enough about us," Bill finally interrupted his wife's chatter, "We couldn't help but notice that you seemed upset about little Ellie's lodgings,"

"Damn straight," Maisy agreed, "Its not right for a young lady to be living out here all by herself! Mrs Watterson and I try to look out for the poor dear, she's so thin she might break her bones just from the wind! But its not right, a girl as bright and nice as little Ellie should be with family, not hanging around in the boondocks with us old people,"

Bill sighed, "We've postponed leaving for Jader. We just can't leave the girl here all by herself! It's almost winter, and the girl will freeze to death if she stays here,"

"It was alright when it was summer," Maisy chattered, "But the poor child don't even have proper winter clothes! She's from the North y'see, she don't know nothing about winter here. I'm not sure she even has seen snow before!"

"There are some unsavory folks roaming about," Bill added glumly, ever the realist, "We know she can take care of herself, but we're old and we worry she's gonna get herself in hot water up to her pretty little neck if someone don't look out for her,"

"She tasered poor Emmet MacGounageigh," Maisy reminisced, "The stupid boy had drunk one too many bottles of moonshine and acted shamefully towards the young lady. He knows better now of course. But we had the rangers send him away, for his own sake. The amount of alcohol on his breath, sweet Maker, it's a wonder he didn't burst into flames! Last thing we needed was a forest fire here, and Ranger Constance agreed,"

"Are you local?" Bill asked him.

"Yes," Solas felt he should defend himself and his reasons for being here, "I run a small bookstore in town. Ellana used to come over to study, and I got worried when she stopped showing up,"

"Oh! You're the gentleman who gave her all those books!" Maisy nodded approvingly, "She was ever so happy about that. The Daahliz," the old woman mangled the pronounciation so completely Solas winced, "they don't have many books I reckon, so she was more than pleased to have something to do round these parts than sit around and twiddle her thumbs after she fixed all our trailers and all the Park's electronics,"

"Anyway," Bill was obviously satisified by Solas' credentials, "We been trying to convince her to move in with a friend in town for the winter, but Ellie is right shy and damn independent and keeps saying she'll be fine,"

"But she ain't been snowed in the mountains for a few weeks like we have," Maisy said confidentially, "It's awful up here when the snows come down. We can't stay for much longer either, our granddaughter in Jader's expecting us before the first snows muddle up the passes, and the Wattersons are leaving in three days,"

"Could you talk to her?" Bill pleaded, "She won't listen to us, just keeps trying to help us. She's a sweet girl, but she needs someone to take care of her for a change,"

"Mrs Watterson's son was in the Academy here," Maisy informed him, "He says they got dormitories for students here, you know like those fancy noble schools they send their kids to for a year, but you know what they said when Mrs Watterson called them about it?" The old woman paused for effect, "They said they're full up with elves! Can you believe it? The nerve of some people!"

"It's the bloody Dragon Age; you'd think people would not turn aside a girl who's gonna freeze to death unless she finds a place to stay for the winter, just because her ears are a bit pointy and her face has got them elfy scribbles on it!" The woman huffed irritably, "Ellie is the sweetest girl you'll ever meet, I mean, she fixed up our engine, for nothing more than a meal! That girl is an angel of the Maker, not some monster from bygone times!"

Solas knew with abject dejection what he'd have to do. He wasn't going to like it, but Solas had to try, for Ellana's sake, and for his own peace or mind.

"I'll see what I can do," Solas promised, and cursed himself for his soft heart.

\---


	7. You reap what you sow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Solas, you really do have a tendency to leap before you think when presented with a cat-astrophe. This is a natural consequence of events... and finally things start to get really interesting ;)
> 
> Ps. Solas' car was bought used, but he takes good care of it. Old, busted, retro. I don't know enough about cars to go into further detail. But I imagine he would favor the color green.  
> Pps. Ellana hates being sick.   
> Ppps. Do not tempt fate and camp out in the cold, kids!

Solas parked his car among the few remaining trailers, tipping his head at the Dorrits as he passed their motorhome towards his destination.

Ellana was sitting outside for once, clad in the same black hoodie he had first seen her in; it was likely a hand-me-down from either the Wattersons or the Dorrits because it was much too big for her, as were the gloves and the scarf she had haphazardly dressed in to put off the chill of the autumn air.

"Hello Ellana," Solas greeted her, setting down the take away container on the small foldable table where Ellana had spread out the metallic scrap she was sorting today.

She did not acknowledge him, as had been the case for each day of the past week when he had visited her to try and convince her to change her mind.

Sadly, persuading Ellana was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to solving the tricky situation.

His attempts to convince the hall director to take Ellana back had been shredded and burned for good measure, and his appeals to the board had likely suffered the same fate. No one wanted to house the known fire risk that was Ellana the Dalish elf. 

Not that Solas blamed them. He had painful personal experience on how exhausting even a partial encounter with Ellana was in places you could not afford to lose

Solas had no friends he could ask to accomodate one very unusual stray elf, neither could he afford to rent a place for her, and this wasn't even taking into account her likely burning the place down after the first week.

But Solas kept on pestering Ellana, because the alternative was to allow her to catch her death when the reservation snowed over. The weather report had promised the first snow in three days, and Solas was running out of time. 

Even the Dorrits were packing up. They'd likely be gone today if not for Ellana.

Solas had reasoned with, pleaded, if not down right begged her to come live in town for the winter. But it was rare for her to even acknowledge him; he hoped the offerings of food had not been thrown away in a fit of pride at least, but he was not sure. 

Sophia had suggested he try to bargain with her, but if she wouldn't even speak to him, how could he possibly attempt to barter with her on the matter?

The food had also been Sophia's idea; bribing her with food and the prospect of shelter, Sofia had reasoned, would likely outweigh the disadvantages as the cold began to worsen.

Solas was ashamed to say he had not thought of it himself. It had smoothed the worst ruffled feathers, because Ellana no longer slammed the door in his face if he tried to speak with her.

Finding her that promised shelter on the other hand... Solas felt hopelessly out of his depth in that regard. He had exhausted every possible avenue of inquiry, and short of downright deceit, finding her a place to stay was hopeless.

But Solas could not give up. As frustrating as Ellana could be, Solas pitied her in a way, and he wasn't a heartless monster who could just walk away and leave her to her fate. There had to be some way to make her hear him out, and Solas was determined to try and find it.

Ellana did not recognise his presense, even as he drew up a folding chair beside her. Solas began his usual spiel on the dangers of staying in the Park versus moving into town for the Winter, but she was not giving him the least ounce of her attention.

Ellana allowed him to make his case whilst she sorted the scrap metal. After half an hour, she went back inside, without a word of greeting or acknowledgement, thankfully taking the food back in with her. Solas was left no choice but to wearily return to his car. From past experience, bothering her after the 'audience' was over yielded nothing more than a sore throat.

Bill was waiting for him by his trailer, but seeing Solas' dejected face, he could probably tell his mission was not going well.

"We're leaving tomorrow," Bill muttered apologetically after a lull in the usual status report, "We have to make it to the pass before the snows muddy up the place to a crawl, or we'll never get to Jader before Wintersend,"

"You've done enough Mr Dorrit," Solas spared him a tight smile, "I'll convince her,"

Bill offered him a hand to shake. His grip was tight and firm.

"You're a good man, elf, oh shucks, you know what I mean," Bill gruffly shrugged, "You look after her for us," he pleaded.

"Of course," Solas had dug his own grave long ago. This was just icing on the cake of his misery.

"My wife would like to send some letters to the girl. Could you...?" Bill asked awkwardly.

"Certainly," Solas patted his pockets until he found an aged and worn business card with his bookstore's address, handing it over to Bill. 

"Much appreciated Solas," Bill nodded as he pocketed the card, "Just so you know, my wife is a pretty keen knitter. She might send some Wintersend gifts. If you see something big and lumpy that don't fit through your mailbox, it's probably from us,"

"I'll keep that in mind Mr Dorrit," It was official, Solas never met anyone normal.

But he found he could not help but like the Dorrits anyway. Bill waved him goodbye and his wife forced a portion of apple pie on him, because according to her, he looked hungry.

He had some later that night as he pondered how he could possibly save Ellana from herself.

He came up with nothing. The pie was delicious at least.

\---

 

It had rained. For three whole sodden days, creating a deluge that lowered the air to freezing temperatures. 

Solas' car windows were frosted tight the morning after the rain had finally let up, and he took a thermos of hot chocolate along with his usual offerings, wondering if Ellana had any means of heating inside her aravel as he drove towards the Reservation.

When he arrived, the first flakes of snow were drifting down over the eerily empty camp grounds, void of any sound but the crunch of Solas' shoes on frosted dirt.

Ellana was nowhere to be found, and the silent treatment after pounding on her door did nothing to ease Solas' fears.

He called her name several times, and when no answer was apparent Solas began to panic. The Reservation was deserted, the last of even the hardiest adventurers had fled the scene, meaning no one could offer an explanation for the absolute stillness inside the aravel.

He pounded on the walls and received no response. Desperate for answers, Solas was forced to drive down to the Ranger's lodge to plead for clarification or assistance.

Ranger Constance was a sensible, outdoorsy type woman. Tall, burly, tanned from a life time of outdoors, she cut an impressive figure and listened to his request with a stony expression.

A slight frown crossed her features, "I haven't seen her in three days. When this nasty cold spell arrived the Park had to be closed, we got many mudslides on the first two days. This frost has stabilised the paths but I haven't seen her around the park trails so she should be inside,"

Solas nodded somberly. He had tried to visit, but said mudslides and roadblocks had prevented him, and prompted his early visit today.

"It's also possible..." the ranger trailed off, "That she might have become locked inside the trailer. This rain and the frost... well, it wouldn't be the first door to have jammed in the circumstances,"

Solas closed his eyes to focus on anything else than the ideas that sprang to life from that sentence alone, trying in vain to still his terror enhanced pulse.

"I better come along with you," the ranger strapped on her vest and varied gear, grabbing a bottle of lock unfreezer, an axe and a crowbar, "Just in case we'll need heavy arsenal. Won't be the first door of a foolhardy camper I've had to break down,"

Solas drove after the Ranger Jeep in anxious silence, imagining Ellana locked inside the aravel for three days, and Solas wished he had forced her to come with him. Why hadn't he thrown her stubborn behind over his shoulder and dragged her back kicking and screaming?

Of course, Solas could be overreacting. Perhaps she was asleep, or she hadn't want to see him and had pretended to be asleep. Perhaps they'd find her perfectly alright, sitting by her kitchen table perfectly at ease and completely unconcerned with the prospect of being snowed in.

Ranger Constance hammered on the door and called for Ellana professionally. She called five times. She knocked on the walls. Then she issued three threats.

"If you do not open this door, I am authorized to use force if necessary to ascertain that you and any others within are alright," Constance shouted without annoyance, "I repeat, this is not a joke. Either you open the door and declare yourself ma'am, or I will break down the door,"

Constance waited for five minutes, and shouted one final time, "Last chance ma'am. Declare yourself now or the door will be forced,"

No answers were to be heard from within.

The ranger shrugged, took out the lock solvent and greased the lock, the hinges and the frame before attempting to open the door, first by hand, then by a shove, and finally by a set of lockpicks. Even the lockpicks did not open the door. Then she took out the crowbar and began physically pulling the door off its hinges.

"Damn thing is really stuck," the Ranger breathed like the bellows after half an hour of backbreaking work, "Not made for cold climate I bet. One year," she grunted as she worked, "This couple of Antivans wanted to spend Wintersend in the park. Had to use a torch to weld the door open, it was that stuck. Stupid Antivan engineering had not been designed for Southern winters. Took us two days to get them out. Poor couple had been eating candlewax to stave off hunger; had to send them to the hospital to have their stomachs purged,"

"We put up warnings and we give free advice," Constance huffed, "Idiots ignore it and sue us. They never win but boy do they make a fuss when their lawyers point out that the sign does say that the Park is not held responsible for ignoring our rules,"

The door gave way with a groan and a crack as the lock broke.

"There we go!" The woman rolled her shoulders with satisfaction and she pulled the door open, "Ma'am?" She called and stepped into the dark of the trailer.

Solas hovered by the entrance, worried sick as he tried to peer over the ranger inside the trailer. 

Constance sighed from within and came back to the entrance, "I think you better come inside," she said softly.

Solas could not clamber inside fast enough, his eyes blinking as they adjusted to the darkness of the aravel, he made note that the temperature within was not much better than the outside. The scent of sickness and stale sweat lingering on the air made Solas feel like someone had punched a dagger into his gut.

Solas fumbled his way through the metallic trash underfoot to a mountain of pink sheets in the back, from which he could hear raspy breaths.

With cold, shaking hands he discarded his gloves to unearth Ellana's forehead, slick with sweat and burning up with fever. She was still breathing, and Solas accepted the thermometer the Ranger handed over without asking why the woman carried one.

Constance checked the temperature over his shoulder, "Must still be recent. Bet she caught chill on the first or second day, and has been in bed since. At least she had the sense to bundle up. Thankfully we got to her before it got worse,"

"Want me to call an ambulance?" Constance offered kindly, "Might be a good idea to check that she hasn't caught her death by pneunomia,"

"No," Solas snapped brusquely, thinking of the way she had fled his company when last he had suggested hospitalization, and he would not risk ruining what little trust he had regained by defying her terror because it was more convenient. 

"I... I'm taking her home with me," he declared with mounting horror at the prospect of even temporarily housing Ellana's particular brand of crazy, that was barely overruled by his concern for her well-being. But it was his only option if he wanted to save Ellana, so he swallowed every bitter objection and steeled his resolve.

"Alright," Constance shrugged, "You're the boss. Better someplace warm with someone checking up on her than in this freezing coffin. She's a tough kid. Haven't seen her sick before; she should be fine with rest,"

"I'll impound the trailer and lock it up best I can," Constance informed him, "Better get the essentials out while you can though. Can't promise some punk won't try to take advantage of it. Come pick it up once you've figured out where you want it,"

With Constance's help, Solas drove his car closer to the aravel and the ranger helped him move Ellana, still bundled up in the heavy blanket, to rest in his backseat, strapping her down as best they could for the drive.

Then Solas did a once over of her aravel, handing the car keys to Constance and shoving the essentials, toothbrush, toiletries, spare clothes, into the satchel he had seen her with so often.

With everything settled, he drove as fast as he dared back to his shop.

Getting her upstairs proved to be somewhat problematic. Solas was no athlete, but he managed to carry her bridal style up to the attic, where he pulled her unconscious body out the sweaty blanket, pulling out some of his winter clothes from the depths of his dresser, before he bundled her up in his thickest flannel pj's. 

He took great care not to look too closely at what he was doing, which somewhat hampered his efforts, but desperation fuelled his determination and was greater than his sense of decency.

Finally, Solas tucked her into his bed, and drew up a mental checklist for all the things he would need to take care of.

He put her clothes and blanket linens in the wash, rushed out to stock up on food and medicine, began making soup, cleaned his apartment, and finally checked in on her with a glass of water, vitamin pills he had bought, along with some medicine that might alleviate the symptoms of fever, which he somehow managed to make her half-delirious body swallow.

When he ran out of things to do he hovered by her bedside, trying to relax, trying not to panic, and will his heart not to stop when her breaths were uneven and her exhale was slow to follow her inhale. 

Solas wondered if he was doing the right thing, if he had failed her by not acting sooner, if he should have taken her to the hospital anyway...

Round and round his thoughts went as the day passed at a snail's pace.

\---

 

Solas started awake. He had apparently dozed off at some point during the evening, Solas groaned softly as he massaged his aching neck from the awkward position he had fallen asleep in.

He checked the timer on his alarm clock; three fifty a.m. 

Solas sighed, he really should not have fallen asleep on the rigid chair. He checked on Ellana, whose eyes were shut peacefully, trying to delude himself that her breaths were slower and more even, and that her brow was less sweaty from fever and more from being overdressed.

Solas excused himself to follow nature's call, and grabbed some refreshments for himself before returning to his vigil, trying to massage feeling into his back.

He almost jumped out of his skin when he returned to his bedroom. Ellana's green eyes glinted in the dark, squinting in the dusk before dawn like a cat after a long nap. She blinked slowly, her expression languid and relaxed.

Solas approached her like one might approach a wild animal, taking her temperature with hands shaking from nerves. Solas was uncertain what should say to her, so he said nothing instead.

She tried to move away from his fingers, and Solas tried not to feel offended.

"Your fingers are like ice hahren," Ellana grumbled sleepily with a yawn, scrunching her petite nose as she turned onto her other side. Taking a few deep breaths, she burrowed deeper under his covers and began to snuffle adorably as she fell asleep again.

Solas seated himself on the uncomfortable desk chair again, and wondered if this was a good sign?

\---

 

Trying to keep Ellana in bed was a study in futility. 

Solas tried to keep her busy by bringing her the lexicon she had left unfinished, but her lingering fever made concentration futile, and he had to conclude that Ellana hated solitary confinement by the way she inevitably followed him around the house. Eventually Solas was forced to simply throw her over his shoulder and carry her back to bed. Argument was pointless, reprisals fell on deaf ears and Ellana was too bored to listen to common sense when she thought she felt just fine.

After two days of wasted reprimands, Solas allowed her to relocate to the sofa, provided she was bundled up and reclining most of the time. Ellana complied to his demands... when he was looking. Whenever he turned his back, she tried to sneak out of bed.

It was like living with a disobedient toddler, Solas thought morosely as he deposited her ungrateful and unapologetic behind on the sofa and pulled the blankets up to her chin, again.

Dorian was no help either.

"Ellana darling! How marvelous to see you, albeit a lot less perky than usual," he had greeted the girl over the rim of his coffee.

Ellana glared at the sparkly Tevene from under Solas' blanket.

"Where did you disappear off to?" Dorian asked jovially, totally ignoring the hostility emanating from the sofa; Ellana did not like being seen whilst ill apparently.

She pointedly flopped on her side, facing away from her professor.

"I'd bring you the assignment sheets and copies of the notes from my classes, but I have a feeling you'd just recycle the damn things, again, so I'm not going to bother," Dorian commented airly, stirring his hot sugar and cream with a tint of coffee at the bottom.

Ellana snorted in agreement.

Dorian proceeded to babble some nonesense that sounded like an elaborant summary about the topics he had gleaned over in his classes this semester, and Ellana proceeded to smack her hands over her ears irritably in an effort to shut him out.

Solas had hoped Dorian would distract Ellana, but it turned out Ellana did not want to be distracted. She tried to escape downstairs to the store when Dorian's well-meaning chatter got too much for her still feverish body; Solas had to evict Dorian to get Ellana to settle down. 

"Aren't you overprotective," the unapologetic Tevene commented whilst he leaned on the counter, "By the way, your taste in proper nightwear is atrocious and those rags should be burnt at the stake," 

Dorian shook his head in disgust, "What's worse, you've forced your abhorrent clothes on poor, innocent Ellana! This travesty to fashion is deplorable, even for you old boy, and I must intercede for the love of decency,"

Undoubtably it likely meant Dorian would buy him some ridiculously impractical noble smoking coat and silky underthings for Wintersend as a hint about what proper style should look like.

Solas rolled his eyes at Dorian's retreating back; Solas saw little point in arguing with Dorian's flights of fancy. It would pass and Solas didn't care what the vapid, ignorant noble thought about his choice of clothing so long as it kept Ellana warm.

\---

 

On the fifth day since he had brought her home, Ellana declared herself healthy and tried to return to her aravel.

It was the worst possible thing his still recovering patient could possibly do in her delicate situation. Solas had no choice but to attempt to argue with her and make her see reason.

"Ellana, please, you'll get yourself killed!" He followed her through his house as she gathered her things, "I'll find you a place to stay for the whole damned winter. Please, do not go back there and kill yourself out of misplaced pride!" 

His entreaties were falling on deaf ears. Ellana ignored him, she wouldn't even argue because her mind was made up.

Solas' panicked brain went into overdrive as Ellana's hand reached for the front door.

Solas grabbed hold of her overlarge hoodie in desperation before she slipped through his hands, again. Solas knew for certain in his heart that if she stepped out that door, he would not see her ever again, living or dead. 

"Whatever I said that made you angry, I am sorry," Solas choked out, "I don't care what happened in your past, and I am sorry if I was rude to you because I could not articulate it,"

"Please, Ellana," he begged sincerely, "Stay with me,"

Her hand halted on the door handle.

"I'll do anything," Solas pressed the advantage, "Please. Stay here, with me. I'll feed you, I'll buy you clothes; anything you want! You won't want for anything, I swear, just stay here, and I'll take care of everything,"

Her fingers drummed on the handle as the tense, expecting silence stretched. It was a moment of truth, if he lost this fight she would be gone forever. Solas heart pulsed in his throat anxiously as Ellana considered his proposal.

"What about my aravel?" She asked, delaying the decision.

"You can keep it here," Solas was relieved he was finally getting through to her, "I can find another parking spot, it's no trouble," he frantically promised.

Ellana glanced backwards, her eyes were unreadable as they regarded him intensely.

Solas squeezed her hoodie tighter, holding on with clammy hands, growing sweaty from the anticipation.

"What do I-" she began to protest.

"You'd owe me nothing," Solas cut her off swiftly, "Free of charge. No favors wanted or necessary," he assured her.

Ellana looked away, fiddling with the overgrown bangs she hid behind.

"I'll think about it," she replied, turning the the handle and slipping out into the cold. The store bell jangled, irreverently cheery for the current mood.

Solas stared after her, unable to move or think as her silhouette faded away into the distance. When she was gone from his sight, his empty hands clenched into tight fists and a blood pounding fury came over him. Solas let out a slew of vile curses as upended carefully catalogged book piles in his rage, slamming his fists on the wall until the worst of the red abated from his eyes and he could think clearly again.

A part of him wanted to run after her, drag her back by force, tackle her in the street if necessary, but Solas knew he couldn't make her stay unless she wanted to and it rankled him.

Ellana was independent to the point of frustration, and lived by her own rules, not the rythmic regulations Solas orchestrated his routine to.

Solas would give her a day. Then he would go and demand his answer, one way or the other.

\---

 

That night Solas jolted awake from uneasy dreams when someone slipped into his bed, their ice cold feet tangling with his, freezing fingers grabbing hold of his hips, and an equally chilly nose was pressed onto his neck.

Solas resisted the urge to roll over and gag his assailant, pressing his elbow onto their throat until they passed out; he consciously forced himself to relax, because he recognised the snuffling breaths as they fell upon his stiff shoulderblades.

Solas checked his alarm, frowning at the time, informing him that it was three fifty in the morning. Solas blinked at the bright display; with his sleep fuddled mind it took him six minutes to fully realise Ellana had come back, and that she had accepted his deal.

His frown deepened when he realised she was wearing the unfortunately revealing shift again; her soft upper body was oozing from the confines of her too small nightdress and was uncomfortably rubbing against his bare skin everytime she breathed.

Solas had two options. One was demand what the hell she was doing in his bed at this time in the morning while dressed like this, possibly offending her and leading her to run off without reprieve, or he could not make a fuss and just be glad Ellana was back, for however long his nerves could take it.

Or pick the third option, which was to do neither, and lay where he was, painfully aware of the awkward situation, and wonder for the rest of the night if he was going to have to buy a bigger bed if he meant to keep his promise to her.

Ellana was blissfully unaware of his cogitations, nestled against his back in peaceful slumber.

\---


	8. Settling in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, we're here already? Never thought my little story would grow so big or gain such an audience! I feel blessed <3
> 
> Thank you for all your lovely support! I would never have gotten this far without you patiently reading my lengthy chapters, and leaving me such lovely feedback :) 
> 
> This is for you readers ;)
> 
> Ps. Solas, you really should have asked her for her name by now! Too busy moping to do something about it, no doubt.  
> Pps. The last part is pure fluff; I think Solas deserved a little tlc after all the shit I've put him through, and most likely for all the shit I will throw onto his abused shoulders in the future. Don't worry, he's a survivor, he can take it.  
> Ppps. Frilly cakes are a trope I cannot resist.

Solas was still in denial about what had happened.

Was he a masochist? Because after only four days of living with Ellana, Solas wanted to commit homicide. Preferably on himself.

Culture shock was a completely inadequate description of the situation Solas now found himself entrenched in. If he had thought Ellana to be a handful when she was lousing around his house as a guest, it was like comparing snowflakes to an avalanche on the magnitude of the change in her behaviour when she was living with him.

Privacy was an utterly alien concept to her. This was amply proven when Solas had been innocently sorting his clothes for washing, and Ellana marched in without warning, and without any concern for propriety, undressed and took a shower. And that was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to his woes.

When Sunday came round, it was understandable that Solas was reluctant to leave Ellana alone in his house. Any prior knowledge of her possible behaviour had flown out the window. Solas had no illusions left; she could do anything during the four hour period Solas would be away and he would have no warning until it was too late.

It wasn't like he could hire a sitter for an adult woman, nor one that would not be mentally scarred forever by Ellana's odd behaviour. Trying to lock her inside her aravel was pointless; Solas wouldn't put it past Ellana to be able to unlock the door from the inside.

Left no other choice, Solas had to resort to the dreaded final option.

"Ellana, I'd like you to come with me to meet an old friend of mine," Solas did not phrase it like a question.

Ellana pulled her head out of the depths of the lexicon she had been reading on his sofa, her eyes glinting with suspicion.

"What friend?" She asked with surprising amount of venom in it.

"She lives out of town, and I always meet her on Sundays," Solas explained, "She has expressed a desire to meet you," Solas claimed, knowing Sophia, she would be delighted to finally meet the enigmatic woman, who had consumed Solas' sensible life in a tide of unstoppable chaos, and who Solas had complained about tirelessly for the past few months.

Ellana stared at him without blinking for an uncomfortably long while.

"Please," Solas added tersely.

This was one of the times Solas wished he had a Dalish to common sense dictionary, a manual of etiquette, a Dalish cultural analogy analysis; anything to help him understand what was happening behind her unreadable expression.

She closed the lexicon with deliberate lack of haste and slowly rose from her seat, strolling past him languidly down to store level.

Solas followed, "Ellana-" he attempted to stall the girl from any sudden bouts of vengeance or whatever it was that she had planned.

Ellana proceeded towards the back entrance, dressing in the thick, men's woolen coat Solas had given her with serene, casual movements.

Then Ellana headed outside, stepping towards his car expectantly, and cocked her head over her shoulder when he did not follow, "Aren't we going?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

Solas swore to himself about her damned unpredictability while he hastily closed up the store and grabbed his coat, before hurrying to unlock the car doors; he hadn't actually expected her to agree to leave so easily.

There was an awkward, glacial quiet emanating from her seat, and Solas had no idea why or what he had done this time, and he wasn't fool enough to try to find out. Silence suited him better anyway.

But even Solas found the thirty-five minute drive to be torturously unpleasant. His thoughts became a slurry made up of questions that wouldn't stop nagging him about why he had thought this to be a good idea, wondering how unbearable Ellana could get until he apologised for something he had no inkling of doing in the first place, and how Sophia would react to his little stray tagging along, nevermind how Ellana would behave!

Not even the familiar slope of the picturesque valley, or the yellow brick house built onto the hill could ease his troubled mind, when usually just the prospect of the peace within the house waiting for him could calm even the worst temper he was steeped in.

Ellana showed no visible reaction when they approached the house, nor paid any heed to the discreet plaque beside the front entrance proclaiming the 'Sacred Ashes Hospice for the Elderly'. 

"Hello Solas," the nurse on reception duty today greeted him with familiarity and her eyes inevitably slid over to Ellana, "I see you have brought another guest," the woman faltered, since this was a singular event, "Is she a relative of yours?" The nurse prodded hopefully.

"No," was all the nurse received for her trouble; Solas knew how gossipy the nurses were, and he had no intention of becoming more of a spectacle than just bringing Ellana here would inevitably cause. 

Solas impatiently tapped his foot, "The passes?" He demanded.

"Oh right, sorry," the nurse stopped trying observe his 'companion', "She's new so you'll need to fill out some paperwork," the nurse slid over a long legal document, which Solas dealt with instead, since he didn't trust that Ellana wouldn't try to bypass some clauses on the form.

"Ellana," Solas eventually prompted his stray, tugging her away from the delicate metallic sculpture on the wall, "I need you to sign for a visitor's pass," 

The elven woman who had been busy looking around sighed as he dragged her to the confused nurse and just to spite him no doubt, Ellana signed her name in unreadable Elvish rather than Common.

"It's her name, in Elvish letters," Solas explained with a deep sigh of his own to the nonplussed nurse, "Let me transcribe it for you," he grunted and tried to make out the illegible scribble of her last name which he had not had the presense of mind to ask her beforehand.

'Ellana Lavellan' he wrote out in Common on the form after some squinting. He was somewhat hampered in the translation because he had to stop Ellana from fiddling with the self-opening door mechanism, pull her out of reach of the comm system, and slap her hands away from the statue more than once.

The nurse finally handed two passes over with an admirably straight face. The woman was barely holding in her amusement, and as they passed the desk Solas thought he heard the distinct sound of giggles echoing from the lobby.

Solas dragged Ellana by the hand past the many doors on the way to the visitors' common room. Undoubtably she would have opened each and every one regardless of the occupancy lights, or whether the room was locked, in quarantine, and out of bounds for non-personnel.

In the elevator, Ellana began poking at the pass, and Solas hoped she would not take the thing apart just to see how it opened the waygates between the varied departments, blocking paths to unauthorized visitors.

There was a light rumble of voices echoing in the common room, and Solas exchanged greetings with some of the regular visitors and residents on the way, each and everyone giving Ellana a critical once over. 

This would likely be the rumor of the week; Sophia would be the most popular resident among the other ladies of the knitting circle for a time. Knowing Sophia, she would greatly approve.  
Solas' pessimism was vindicated when his old friend greeted him with a welcoming laugh.

"It appears I was right," Sophia chortled, putting down her knitting and straightening her shawl around her shoulders, "I had a feeling you would cave in sooner or later," she teased him, but Solas would not put it past the wily old woman that she had not anticipated Solas' current misery.

Solas' eye twitched in annoyance, "Sophia, this is Ellana," he introduced the girl beside him, who had grown curiously still.

Ellana tilted her head this way and that as she took in the older woman's appearance.

"How do you do my dear," Sophia nodded graciously, "You'll excuse me if I do not rise to greet you; I am afraid my hips have long since failed me, and refuse to co-operate for even the simplest things,"

Ellana finally nodded back after an awkwardly long period of observation, "Aneth ara," she said simply, for once in the archaic form of elvish Solas recognised.

"Andaran atishan," Sophia replied formally, "I am afraid my accent is terrible, but you'll forgive and old woman for trying. Please, do sit,"

Solas drew an extra chair for Ellana, which she seated herself on with surprisingly little fuss. Ellana didn't even attempt to wander off.

"I wish I could have met you sooner my dear," Sophia said companionably, as if speaking to an old friend rather than a recent acquaintance, "But alas, my traveling days are long behind me. Are you settling in well? Or has my friend driven you up the wall yet?"

Sophia had probably nailed Solas' reason for bringing Ellana in one judging by the knowing look she shot his way, as usual. She really knew him too well.

"Hahren has strange habits," Ellana stated, which was news to him, "And he keeps lying to me," 

Solas restrained shaking the girl by the shoulder. Where had she gotten that impression of him? He hadn't outright lied to her to his knowledge; it was incomprehensible, considering that Solas generally preferred to be honest, to the point of discomfort! 

Strange! Ha! Coming from her, it was ridiculous! If anyone was close to climbing the walls, it was him, not her.

Sophia's eyes twinkled with amusement, "Really? I find it difficult to believe, but then, I've known him for almost ten years and I am used to his ways,"

Ellana glanced at him from the corner of her eye. Was she playing with him? Joking? It was impossible to tell.

"He says one thing and means another," Ellana's tone implied annoyed forbearance, which was baffling to Solas. It had to be some form of revenge, or a prank.

"Oh?" Sophia seemed far too sympathetic, "How rude,"

Ellana nodded vigorously.

"You should apologise to her, Solas," Sophia suggested with a straight face, "It sounds like you owe her quite a few by now,"

Solas tried to convey to Sophia wordlessly that taking things too far was not helping him at all, and that he had no idea what he was supposed to be apologising for exactly. Sophia didn't so much as bat an eyelash to indicate she understood him.

"I'm... sorry?" Solas mumbled, giving in to the social expectation, his expression growing tenser as he looked between the unexpected allies.

"It's a start," Sophia must be laughing at him inwardly, and she turned back to Ellana with a kind smile, "Would you believe me if I told you that I once explored the ancient forests of the Tirashan?" The old woman grinned eagerly at the prospect of a fresh audience, and when Ellana shook her head, Sophia launched into reminiscing about her days on that doomed venture.

Solas began to relax, a bit. A part of him was constantly on the lookout to ensure Ellana did not run off, but he needn't have worried; she didn't move an inch during the whole spiel. Sophia regaled the young elf with some stories of her checkered past, and Ellana listened to the elder woman's prattling attentively.

As visiting hours drew to a close, Sophia took Ellana's hand and pat it like a doting grandmother, "Do come visit me again next week my dear. It's so nice to meet such a polite young woman; you know, I could never tell the whole story through to your impatient friend there without him interrupting me every other minute to ask me questions!" Sophia chuckled fondly, and Solas squirmed under the combined powers of Ellana's pensive stare and Sophia's mirth.

"Take care of this young lady, my friend. I look forward to our next meeting already," Sophia whispered as Solas gave her an Orlesian style cheek kiss to say goodbye, before he led Ellana out much more willingly than she had arrived.

Ellana held onto his hand, so lost in thought that he had to shake her off him to get into the car.  
Ellana remained thoughtful the whole long drive home, but at least the silence was no longer oppressive, even if Solas' mood was apprehensive.

The only explanation he got from her later that day was, "She had a funny accent,"

\---

 

After listening to Dorian's nagging for two days in a row via his now functional phone line, which he regretted allowing Ellana to fix, Solas caved in to pressure and interrupted Ellana's study time.

"Your midterms are next week," Solas cut straight to the point, "Will you not even study for them?"  
Ellana shrugged without raising her head from her calculations.

"Ellana," Solas resisted the urge to shout, but his voice became more terse than usual, "Will you please at least attend the midterms, and answer the questions?"

Ellana angled the delicate tome to get at the next page.

"You know what, fine. What do you want from me to get you to participate in those exams?" Solas mentally added the favor to Dorian's tab. It terrified him that he was beginning to think in bargaining terms, and actually use them correctly.

Ellana finally looked up, blinking slowly. She mulled the question for a moment in her head.  
Then she stated, "I'll think about it,"

"Books? Dresses? Food? Menial chores?" Solas suggested.

She shrugged, returning to her book, "I don't really need anything now hahren," Ellana returned ominously, "I'll think of something later,"

"But you will participate?" Solas pressed.

"If it makes you happy hahren," she replied mildly, "I'll do it. But I expect repayment at some point," Ellana threatened as she speared him with her inscrutable eyes for a moment longer than was comfortable.

Yes, Dorian definitely owed him big. Solas already dreaded what the unnamed favors he had already asked would be, add this to the mix and he would soon be in debt up to his ears.

Solas had no idea how to handle his girl, and it unsettled him greatly.

A part of him feared Ellana knew it too.

\--- 

 

Solas made use of the time when Ellana was out to take her exams to enjoy some peace and quiet at last. It was luxuriously relieving to be alone for most of the day, but it also presented the inevitable follow-up question; what should he do during this brief period of solitude? 

After weeks of activity, simply sitting down and relaxing lost its luster after the first day. The second day was just as tiresomely boring, and it felt somehow wrong to do absolutely nothing, when for once he could choose what to pursue freely.

On the third day Solas decided that a small reward for surviving the first week of co-existence was in order; he retired to his small kitchenette and busied himself with baking a batch of Orlesian style frilly cakes.

With the way Ellana had barged in on his life, Solas had not had much chance to indulge in the hobby, and had not dared allow Ellana to find out about his sweet tooth and the things he did to appease it. Solas justified staying silent because he feared she would try to use his delicate baking instruments, or worse, try to improve them.

It was liberating to have the opportunity to fulfill his desperate need for something delectably sweet; melted chocolate in his cocoa every morning was insufficient to truly sate his cravings.

Ellana's cooking, while infinitely better than Solas' mechanical and practical attitude towards primary meals, favored very hearty, savoury tastes, which sat in his gut like a ton of bricks. Even the varied breads Ellana baked every morning were a far cry from the sweetened loafs Solas secretly yearned for.

Solas relished in the exact and precise nature of baking, and recognised that cooking was a decidedly different beast, one where exact measurements were not as clear cut or defined. For Solas, this meant the food he prepared was always by the books, methodical in execution, and did not deliver excellence as often as it did an unvaried standard. Ellana took a more relaxed stance towards cooking, having both the inspiration and the experience that allowed her to deliver food that was above average in terms of taste and preparation. 

However much she seemed to enjoy using his kitchen, Ellana might not be receptive towards making something as frivolous as pastries, and Solas had not been willing to present himself to ridicule by confessing to his weakness towards tiny crumbling cakes topped with too much frosting.

Besides, Solas had never been comfortable sharing his home-made confections with anyone.

Solas lost himself in preparation and the familiar motions of baking, a small smile gracing his lips as he snacked on leftover chocolate and licked the spoons he used to mix the batter. Time passed in a leisurely fashion as he worked, and for the first time in months Solas was simply content.

Solas had been concentrating on putting the finishing touch on his buttercream topping, that he let out an undignified yelp when his side was poked by someone demanding attention.

Solas spun around in a daze, caught red handed in his apron and piping bag full of frosting, his eyes catching the small clock on the wall, informing Solas that he had lost track of time so completely Ellana had returned home before he had cleaned up the kitchen, nevermind polished off the cakes!

Ellana ignored his inane babbling and squeezed past his frozen body into the kitchenette, hopping onto the counter, where she picked up his tatty, dog eared, and half-smeared cook book, 'Delectable Pastries and how to make them', boasting many bookmarks and personal revisions and commentary in Solas' guilty hand. She browsed the pages idly, looking between him and the cooled down cakes sitting innocently in hand's reach.

Solas waited for the other shoe to drop, his eyes flitting between her and the cakes. 

Her hand reached for a cake and Solas spluttered indignantly, unable to prevent her from accosting his work, because if he dropped the piping bag, all his carefully prepared frosting would be ruined.

Ellana observed the still unfrosted cake in her hand, turning it this way and that, then she glanced around the unusually messy kitchen full of mixing bowls, and dusted all over with flour and sugar.

"They're not done yet," Solas blurted out, feeling his ears catch flame.

For once, mercifully, Ellana complied to his wishes and put the cake back without destroying it.

Ellana's feet idly tapped against each other, and seeing she had no intention of moving Solas sidled back towards the cakes and continued his work. His efficiency and his skill took a great hit from the keen green eyes analysing his every move however, resulting in the frosting being below his usual standard in terms of aesthetics.

All his good mood and enjoyment from earlier was sucked out of him, and his heart was not in finishing the cakes anymore.

Solas was so down in the dumps that when Ellana's fingers suddenly wiped the corner of his mouth, he physically recoiled.

Her fingers were coated with the remains of the melted chocolate he had used in the batter, making Solas' whole face flush beet red. His mortification was complete when she licked her fingers clean, boasting a pondersome expression as she considered the foreign flavours.

"I don't think I've ever tasted anything half this sweet in my life," she mumbled.

Ellana counted the assortment of cakes and blanched, "How can you possibly eat so many of them at once?" She asked weakly.

"You don't," Solas explained gruffly, setting aside two for now. Solas carefully eased the rest into a container meant to ward off strong smells, before he placed them on the shelf he'd cleared out in his fridge.

Reluctantly he handed the second cake to Ellana.

She accepted it tentatively, her forehead creasing with concentration as she tried to find a way to eat it by hand without disturbing the frosting, essentially nibbling at the edges and getting annoyed when her nose got covered in cream.

Solas took pity on her when he was half-way through his own cake.

He plucked the plate from her hand, picking up the unused dessert fork she'd set aside, Solas cut a piece of the cake off expertly, including frosting on it, before presenting the fork to her mouth.

Ellana blinked without comprehension at the offered morsel, and attempted to wiggle out of reach; Solas had to chase her mouth with the fork until she was backed up against the wall and her only escape was to gobble up the cake. Solas hastily let go of the fork, not wanting to continue this ridiculous exercise; there was no way he would stoop down to spoon feeding a grown woman.

Ellana made a face at the overload of sweetness.

"If you didn't want it, you should have said so," Solas grumbled.

Ellana shook her head resolutely and picked up the plate again, setting it on her lap and began to replicate the fork movements he had demonstrated.

"My mother would skin my hide if I refused food, no matter how strange," Ellana declared, her face set into determination as she awkwardly balanced a piece of cake, dropping it several times before it made its way into her mouth.

It took her ten minutes to finish, and by then Solas was halfway through washing up. She timidly passed him the plate and fork, before picking up a dish cloth to help him clean up.

"It was delicious," she lied, avoiding his gaze, "Ma serannas,"

Solas shrugged, attempting to regain his composure and dignity.

"Do you like them?" She queried after moment of silent activity.

"I wouldn't have made them if I didn't consider it worth the effort," he grunted.

"Hmm," Ellana replied, "Shem tastes are peculiar,"

Solas bristled, but didn't dare comment further on the subject. The day was already ruined, and he had no intention of making it worse by engaging in a pointless argument.

The only silver lining he could see was that since Ellana had disliked them, Solas might be able to reserve the cakes for his own use.

\---

 

The next morning, Solas found Ellana baking something that smelled distinctly sweet, not like her usual offerings at all.

In confusion he watched her unearth a dozen golden brown rolls from the oven.

Solas was accosted by the strong waft of butter and cinnamon, and was confounded further when he noted his precious cookbook lying open on the table.

Noticing him lingering in the living room, Ellana timidly passed him a roll, twirling her hair around a finger anxiously whilst she stared at him expectantly.

"Did you bake-" Solas fumbled for words as he looked between Ellana and the still warm cinnamon roll sitting innocently on his plate, "But why?"

"Don't you like it?" Her face fell and she stared at her feet dejectedly.

Unable to fashion a suitable reply in his current state of mind, he instead stuffed his mouth with the hot roll and forced a smile. 

Solas had expected something comically savory or boasting an uneven distribution of butter and cinnamon, but the roll melted in his mouth, perfectly balanced in both texture and filling, and made his mouth water for more.

"They're perfect," he complimented her, full of surprise and awe.

Ellana beamed at him and filled his plate with all the rolls he could want.

For once, Solas started the day on the right foot, and felt hopeful that this winter might not be a complete disaster after all.

\---


	9. Wintersend miracles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intensely dislike it when certain shops begin playing Christmas carols in October... and here I am being a hypocrite and posting a Christmas themed chapter! My bad, but I hope the amount of pure fluff contained in this chapter will placate you.
> 
> I feel obligated to warn you that the next chapter heralds the end of my pre-written chapters, (in case you hadn't guessed how I managed to push a chapter a day without being a clockwork robot... or am I? The question of the ages...), and all following content will have to be written from scratch.  
> This will naturally affect my updates, but I am committed to finishing this story before I start any new projects, and you can expect at least one chapter per week, or more if the inspiration fever takes over my better sense and obligations.  
> Without further ado, please enjoy this fluff festival! We're finally getting to the good stuff!
> 
> Ps. I have assigned silly names for each holiday; First Greeting, Second Brunch, Third Serving, Fourth Bell, Lover's Toll, Sixth Nightfall, and Seventh Sending. Each has its own traditions I will not go into elaborate detail on or I'll never stop, and you can each guess or make up your own headcanons to suit you.  
> Pps. I am making up a whole week long holiday, which I would imagine is as far from canon as you can get, but this is a work of fiction in an alternate universe, where I am allowed some artistic liberty. So hello week long holiday I can write all the holiday themed fiction I could ever want <3

"Ellana please come out of there," Solas shivered, the icy morning breeze relentlessly disregarded any and all layers he had put on, and proceeded straight into his bones as he hammered on the aravel door, recently fixed; convenient for Ellana's new mode of tantrums.

Ellana did not respond, her go-to response for any disagreement with the restrictions Solas tried to impose on their current mode of co-existence.

"Ellana, please," Solas groaned in defeat. He wanted dearly to burn the damn aravel to the ground at this point, if for nothing else, then for sake of his lost dignity as Ellana always got her way to some extent whenever she threw a protest by locking herself inside the aravel.

The first problem Solas had encountered after discovering her in his bed that fateful morning not a month ago, was the fact that Ellana did not seem to be aware of the commonly accepted standards of propriety and insisted on sleeping in his bed, while he was still in it.

Solas' attempt of sleeping on the sofa and relinquishing his bed had failed; Ellana had simply followed him and slept on top of his chest. After Solas had lost his temper and explained why she should not, and indeed could not, be sleeping in the same bed as him, Ellana had bunkered down in the aravel like a petulant child for three days and refused to come out.

Solas had been reduced to a compromise; he would allow her to sleep on a bedroll in the same room as him. The only way Solas had gotten her to swallow the terms was his promise of allowing her to nap in the same bed as him. 

What this meant in actuality was that after Ellana woke in the ungodly hours before dawn, she slipped in bed next to him for a few hours to nap. This accidentally solved his problem of her rising too early for his taste, even if it meant light discomfort on his part, it ensured he could sleep in a bit and not be forced to wake at four a.m., and Solas was willing to endure it to achieve that unexpected end.

Sadly, after this crisis had been solved, Solas faced the second hurdle, which was another no-win situation for him.

It was her choice of casual clothing. Or rather, the lack of clothing.

Solas had walked in on Ellana running around naked more times than he could count. Nudity meant absolutely nothing to her. She might appear to be wearing the ridiculous oversized hoodie and yet be totally naked underneath. Ellana found nudity to be comfortable, to the point of absurdity. Solas had tried to deal with it by not looking and avoiding her, but that didn't last long when she insisted on parading about wearing little to nothing, all the time.

Some men might consider waking up in bed with a naked woman a pleasant surprise; Solas had found out the hard way that Ellana considered sleeping in the same bed stifling if she was wearing anything. Solas deemed it inappropriate, discomforting, and the last straw on his patience.

Pointing this out to her had caused another tantrum. Solas had had to promise Ellana could be as naked as she wanted underneath her chosen clothing, but that Ellana had to keep herself covered when moving about in the house, especially on the store level, and if she had to nap in the same bed, she should at least wear the damn shift.

Ellana swallowed this faster, after only two days of begging. Solas attributed it more to the winter freeze that had struck Haven at last and how walking around wearing as little as she usually did was really uncomfortable in the freezing coffin that was the aravel, rather than his skills at persuasion.

The current problem, was that after three weeks of somewhat discomforting compromises and disharmonious co-existence, Ellana had decided that his lap was the most comfortable place to sit on if possible.

Ellana had started to worm her way into his lap as often as she could nowadays. If Solas sat on the sofa for two minutes, she slipped between his arms after six seconds had passed and proceeded to find the most comfortable place to sit on, which was usually as uncomfortably intimate a position for him as possible, taking into account her usual choice, or to be more accurate, lack of clothing.

At first it had not been a problem, just another discomfort he had to endure in order to keep living with her, one Solas was unwilling to make a fuss about. If he started throwing his weight around for every little annoyance, Ellana would be living inside the aravel and that was not the point. But Solas had drawn the line after the time Ellana had decided to straddle his hips whilst not wearing any sort of pants.

That had been four days ago. She had taken this demand worse than the first two put together.  
With Wintersend on the corner, Solas had hoped to finally have settled into a kind of uncomfortable normality when she had pushed one last line of privacy too far.

Solas had not reacted nicely. A guilty part of him knew the reason he had been so violent about it, was because a visceral part of him he tried his best to ignore normally had really liked the sensation, and it shamed him that Ellana had had to notice the distinct bulge in his pants that stunt had caused.

Her getting upset was perfectly understandable. No one wanted to find out their hahren was suppressing unwilling, unwanted and unwelcome attraction for someone who was dependant on them.

It was three days to Wintersend, and Solas was both ashamed and tired of always making an ass of himself when she needed his protection.

"Ellana, I am sorry," he repeated his pleas of the past four days, "Please come back inside. I promise it won't happen again, and so long as we keep to our agreement,-"

"No," her voice was muffled through the door.

"Ellana I told you, I am not comfortable with you touching me like that," Solas groaned in frustration, "I can handle touching with clothes, I can handle you running around half-naked, but please do not touch me whilst half-naked again and-"

"You said I could stay. Were you lying?"

Solas moaned and rubbed his aching temples. Solas really wished he could get better answers about Dalish customs than half-truths and hearsay, because he had no idea why Ellana kept bringing it up.

"I meant it," Solas repeated wearily, "No, I was not lying, and before you say it, yes, my offer still stands, you are always welcome,"

"Yet your actions say otherwise," her voice was as icy and suspicious as the temperature of the air.

"Ellana, please," Solas begged again, "Come back inside,"

There was no answer and Solas was reduced to playing his last, unwilling card, "You can sit on my blood lap all you like if it makes you feel better, but please wear clothes when you do, that's all I ask," he exclaimed irritably.

Solas had learned that giving in with caveats was the only way to get her to come out. No matter how bitter the pill he had to swallow, Solas would not let her kill herself because of something petty.

"Very well," Ellana finally acquiesced. 

Solas had hoped it would not come to this, but it always did and he was too stubborn not to try and get his own way for once.

The door opened, and Ellana exited at long last, bundled up in all her her winter clothes like a nesting doll wrapped under fifteen layers of fabric, and she locked the door behind her. Solas idly wondered how long she had been expecting him to crack.

Solas breathed a sigh of resigned relief as she grabbed his arm for warmth, whilst he led her back inside, one more catastrophe averted.

Solas got as comfortable as he could when later that day Ellana burrowed into his lap like a cat, pressing her cold nose to his neck and wrapping her fingers around his torso. 

Solas really wondered who was domesticating who.

\---

 

Solas could not remember the last time he had spent Wintersend with someone else.

He wasn't sure how the Dalish would spend the week long holiday, if they celebrated it at all. Solas had tried to discreetly bring it up with her, but Ellana had so far ignored him, as she usually did.  
Dorian had lots of suggestions on the matter of course. Most of them completely improper and downright disturbing. 

"Please tell me you have at least gotten her something!" Dorian tsked, sniffing delicately as he stirred his over sweetened coffee.

"I don't even know if she celebrates Wintersend at all," Solas grumbled, "Besides, I am already letting her stay here free of charge, and you know how well she takes gift giving. I don't want her taking apart my washing machine again because she felt she had to return the favor,"

"It's traditional Solas, whether or not she celebrates it, you do, and that alone obligates you to buy her a present," Dorian chastised him, "Perhaps some new clothes? It's bad enough you dress like a pauper, it's downright sad to see a woman with her looks wear rags as well!"

Solas refrained from commenting about how if he did buy her clothes, she wouldn't likely wear them at all. It might encourage Dorian's lewd imagination to unbearable smugness, and Solas already got enough 'friendly advice' about his sexual life from Dorian whether he wanted any or not.

The only mercy he found was that Ellana paid Dorian's salacious suggestions about as much attention as she gave to Solas on anything she wasn't interested in.

Two days until Wintersend and Solas admitted he had absolutely no idea what he should do, or what he was going to do with Ellana for that matter.

"If I did buy something," Solas' traitorous mouth thought aloud, "What should it be?"

Dorian's face twisted into a gleeful, disgusting, knowing grin.

"Well now..." The Tevene man twirled his fingers around his moustache, "That would depend entirely on what sort of function you want to achieve with this gift; teasing, hinting, seduction..." he trailed off suggestively.

Coverage, Solas' brain added, an image of her naked body easily withdrawn from his oversaturated recent memory. It was worst when Ellana took a shower. Before and after. At any other time Ellana was happy enough to adhere to his rules, but when she was drenched, all bets were off. 

A bathrobe and a pair of slippers, Solas decided, not willing to begin reminding himself of how steamy droplets gathered around the small of her back. He tried to think of something else, anything else... her feet needed covering up, Solas remembered with relief. He concentrated on the image of her tiny toes that were always freezing when she slipped into bed with him or decided to cuddle on his lap, tucking them against any hand, thigh or leg convenient for warming her perpetually bare feet.

Ellana was a distraction Solas needed to learn how to manage, because the way she derailed his better senses without any effort was ridiculous! What he really needed was a holiday, but he wasn't getting one until he found Ellana another place to stay... which wasn't going to happen any day soon.

Solas combed his brain for anything that would lessen the severity of images glued to his consciousness, and his thoughts drifted to threadbare shifts with embroidered kittens and Ellana's morbid affair with the color pink... it was the perfect solution! His mind made up, Solas decided to buy the most disgustingly cute and childish robe he could find, along with the fluffiest, pinkest slippers to match, to remind himself about how much of a child she was.

Solas glanced around to ensure Ellana was not in hearing range, before whispering to his would be accomplice, "I need you to watch Ellana while I go buy her a present," he never thought he'd ever have to utter a sentence of the kind, but there it was.

"Ooh, leave it to me," Dorian winked, "I'm good at distracting people with my naturally abundant wit, good looks and charm,"

Solas rolled his eyes, "I won't be gone long," he promised, as it turned out, falsely.

For one thing, parking in the department store was a nightmare as last minute Wintersend shoppers were everywhere. Secondly, the sheer amount of people and the size of the store befuddled Solas' sense of direction. Thirdly, once he got to the female clothing section he was faced with a maze of epic porportions he would need to comb inch by inch to find what he sought.

Solas had not gone shopping for clothes in years, much less clothes specifically designed for females! Solas felt awkward and dazed as he was surrounded by racks of what appeared to be extra-feminine undergarments, or possibly torture tools. 

Solas wandered around the increasingly embarrassing dresses and things you put under them for what felt like hours, walking around in circles, before Solas realised he had in fact been walking past his destination several times because he had been blinded by the amount of sexy underwear on blatant display.

Why women insisted on hiding the sensible nightwear and bathrobes between confections made of little better than stirps of cloth held together by an outrageous amount of see-through lace was beyond him. He was fairly certain all the women in the department were giving him leery looks and laughing at the sadly displaced old man as he ventured deeper into the humiliating waters of lingerie.

It took him an excruciating amount of time wading through indecent silky nightdresses and bathrobes to find what he sought, and Solas was never more relieved to be holding an embarrassingly pink piece clothing to his chest and running for his life, another sentence he had never believed to be able to apply to himself.

Solas wondered what the cashier must think of him buying such an ensemble. Thankfully, Ellana's elven nature dictated her dress size to be child like by human standards, and with his ears hidden by a poorly knit cap Ellana had insisted on making for him once she ran out of things to fix, the cashier believed Solas was some well meaning old man buying the robe for a young, female relative.

By the time the cashier suggested gift wrapping, Solas was too exhausted to say no, even when the clerk wrapped up the damn clothes in more glaringly pink and sugary wrapping paper, topped with an Orlesian style gold trimmed pink lace bow.

Solas swore on the spot he would never visit this department store in person again as he exited the building at last, his ill gotten gift held like a poisonous snake in front of him. Solas hoped the blushing would die down by next Wintersend, but it was possible that the veins in his ears would spontaneously combust the next time he was embarrassed.

It didn't bear thinking about, and Solas made sure he buried the gift under one of his loose floorboards and seriously contemplated leaving it there and nailing the board back in. 

It haunted his dreams, and sat heavily in the pit of his stomach every time he saw Ellana, which was essentially all the time.

It was going to be a long wait until Wintersend...

\---

 

It was one day to Wintersend and Solas was regretting buying the wretched present in the first place.

Ellana was knitting again; a result of Sophia's influence. The old woman had bequeathed the girl with spare knitting needles, several balls of yarn and lessons, from both herself and every lady in the knitting circle who were delighted at the prospect of a young, inquisitive mind eager to learn.

Ellana had presented him with the infamous hat after a week of furious effort. Her only reasoning was that since Solas was bald, he must be cold.

Whenever Solas went out, she insisted on him wearing it. Fearing yet another tantrum, and partly because he could not spit in the face of Sophia's benign intentions to encourage Ellana to try out a new craft, Solas allowed her to tuck his ears in the lumpy mess of a cap and arrange it on his head every time.

From what he could tell, Ellana was either working on a scarf, or a very elongated pair of mittens or possibly socks, made of mismatched colors of wool in an effort to mimic the complex patterns the older ladies had tried to advise her in. 

In this matter, Ellana was still very much the beginner and a slow learner, not helped at all by the necessarily slack and clumsy grip in her left hand, but the old ladies were encouraging, and did not laugh at the knit hat on Solas' chagrined head, instead inventing the most outrageously false compliments to encourage her to continue.

Ellana had favored the old ladies with a rare, pleased smile and even now she was humming in contentment, lying languidly on his chest as her needles danced with fumbling steps along her eager fingertips.

Solas was attempting to read a book with one arm, but he was getting distracted by his doubts, the warmth of Ellana's, for once, fully covered body, nevermind her still damp hair tickled against his collarbone and her bare toes had been covered under his left leg.

What was he thinking, getting her a gift? Hadn't his current circumstances begun because he had thoughtlessly given her books, free of charge? What if Solas would be accidentally crossing some taboo he was unaware of, and she'd take off again? What if the gift insulted her, again? Could Solas live with the consequences of her running off into Haven's bitter winter snows and likely killing herself out of Dalish pride no one understood?

Solas' doubts chased one another, going round in circles, buzzing under his skin, and he was forced to consider the unthinkable.

He posed her a question, "What does your Clan do for Wintersend?"

Ellana stiffened, her knitting needles halting suddenly, and caused her to drop a link due to inexperience.

Ellana hastily swore in a flow of rapid elven while she sought to amend her mistake, leaning away from him and dragging the warmth with her. Solas had forgotten how cold his small house got in winter in the absense of another's body heat.

Solas felt like he had kicked himself in the mouth, indeed he might as well have; hadn't he learnt long ago just how much trouble his idle tongue had gotten him into? He should try to make amends, but all he could feel was a clenching spasm in his cowardly heart, and a growing sense of trepidation as he expected another tantrum to begin.

She peeked at him demurely behind her shoulder, hiding behind her bangs, her posture diminishing as her hands redoubled their efforts to stay busy.

The silence stretched between them uncomfortably, and Solas was lost in the irony of this change; by trying to avoid a taboo, he had accidentally stepped right into the maws of a bigger taboo.

She turned to face away from him and exhaled deeply before she began her tale, "We'd save up food for months," her voice was quiet, forlorn, like a child reminiscing on a favorite holiday, or longing for her lost childhood, "There would be stories around the campfires, free food and drink for all, small tokens exchanged by bonded couples, children gifted with new tools or treats depending on their age; for a whole week, nothing but laughter and companionship as we celebrated life in the middle of adversity and the bitter clutches of winter,"

Her voice broke off, thickened by memories of her loved ones, her family, and Solas felt both helpless and a colossal fool.

Solas had never once thought that perhaps what she desired most this holiday, was the companionship of her kin over the awkward rules of a stranger's household, that she was being made beholden to against her will out of a lack of other options.

Solas watched her fragile shoulders, so close yet so far, and he struggled to come up with an appropriate offer of comfort.

"Your family..." Solas faltered in the absence of a sufficient explanation on her circumstances, or what her expectations were of his involvement with her personal affairs, his own experiences long faded and dulled by an old cut, scarred over with nothing left worth remembering with any kind of fondness, but for her... Solas would preserve. 

"Would you like to send them word? A gift, a Wintersend greeting?" He fumbled with words long disused, dredging memories of times he had tried to forget with great success.

Ellana did not respond, but her needles stilled in her hands once again. With her needles forgotten, she dropped her work to the floor and crawled back into his arms, seeking physical comfort in an embrace Solas could not fault her for seeking, no matter how discomforting for him.

Solas usually did not encourage her when Ellana did something like this, but this time he awkwardly closed his arms around her anyway, like one might pat the back of a wild beast, and not a young woman.

She breathed deep and listened to his heartbeat in silence, neither moving as a sharp southern wind howled against his fragile windows.

"Can you do that?" Her voice was so small as to be non-existent, but he could feel the vibrations against his chest and his elven hearing picked up the gist of the rest.

"Tell me where they are, and I will ensure they get your message," he promised gruffly.

She looked up at him then, a timid smile curling under her bangs, swirling like fragile snowflakes in her eyes, and Solas could feel the first warnings of a storm blowing in his heart when she snuggled her head back against his chest with a happy huff of breath that alarmed his heart rate considerably.

His weak, treacherous heart skipped a beat in his chest, and Solas feared she could hear it lurch against her ear.

\---

 

Solas watched Ellana write the sixth page of her letter to her family from the corner of his eye as he prepared the first of many Wintersend meals. 

Solas had plans of course. He would visit Sophia like he always did on Second Brunch, Dorian would drag his dejected behind to one of his infamous parties on Fourth Bell, and he would make a courtesy call at his employer's discerning fete on Sixth Nightfall. 

Only this time Ellan would likely tag along, and whilst Dorian had been supporting of his unorthodox relationship with Ellana, some of their mutual acquaintances might find it outrageously funny to find out exactly what had kept Solas so busy the past half-year. 

Solas still had no idea how to breach the whole, 'I am sheltering a slightly inappropriate addition on University owned property, and a student of said Academy no less', to Lady Montilyet. He only had this cramped little employee benefit living because of Lady Montilyet's generosity; informing her Solas was betraying that trust by allowing Ellana to squat on University property was not something he was looking forward to.

Sophia and Dorian both assured him that Ellana's plight would merit enough pity on anyone's account and earn Lady Montilyet's sympathy; enough for Solas not to lose his job or be forced to throw Ellana out.

The rest of Wintersend, Solas was used to dining in peaceful comfort of solitude, catching up on work, and possibly reading something purely recreational as a treat.

With Ellana here, all his comfortable privacy was thrown out of the window.

All it took was a glance at her curled toes she was flexing in mid-air to keep the blood flowing, trying to stay as far from the icy floorboards as she could, and Solas was once again beset by an onset of guilt and doubt as thoughts of the present he had hidden from Ellana resurfaced. 

Solas wondered for the hundreth time, if he should give it to her, and when he could breach the subject.

Ellana turned over the page, oblivious to his concerns, and continued her letter without wasting a single opportunity to convey her news, even if it meant using every inch of the paper and filling it with her illegible elvish scrawl until it took a magnifying glass to discern the contents of the letter. She paused now and then to look into the distance, chewing on the tip of the small fountain pen Solas had loaned her as she contemplated her wording, or possibly how to build a weapon of mass destruction, it was impossible to tell. For all Solas knew, it might be both!

Solas tried to put it out of his mind, focusing on preparing the roast and stirring the gravy.

He was taking the temperature of the half-done roast when Ellana timidly tapped him on the shoulder.  
She was holding what appeared to be a twenty page novel sheepishly.

"Right," Solas closed the oven and adjusted the timer, letting the gravy stew, "Let's get it over with,"

Solas used his readout and a world map, with her hovering anxiously over his shoulder, leaning into his back unconsciously, to pinpoint her Clan's possible current position and their possible trajectory.  
She had placed the mile long letter in a manilla envelope he usually reserved for long distance postage of some of his titles. 

With clear lettering, confirming his unspoken agreement to the considerable postage fees, Solas wrote down the intended recipient and co-ordinates, and finally added a special requisition for express delivery by elven courier, with specific instructions from Ellana how to perform the delivery safely to her Clan.

Solas then put the package aside with his other work related post, and with that done, he tried to rise from his seat to return to the kitchen.

Ellana had other ideas though, and she launched herself onto his unsuspecting neck, almost making him overbalance by the sudden collision as she clung to him in what he supposed to be a hug.

Solas was taller than the average elf, and her toes did not touch the ground when she hung from his neck like this.

Hesitantly, Solas pat her back, muttering with considerable embarrassment, "It's just a letter,"

She shook her head in denial, but let him go with a sigh when Solas did not return the embrace, following him upstairs into the kitchen to help him prepare their dessert for today, a rare treat in celebration of the holidays, and for Solas personally, as congratulations for having survived this long without resorting to putting Ellana in a box and sending her back to her Clan by express mail to solve all his problems.

There was a disappointed pout stuck on her face that only deepened as the day dragged forward and her various sudden embraces were not returned. Apparently Ellana had decided hanging onto his neck to be a new favorite game, one which Solas was in no mood to allow. 

He reprimanded her sharply when her sudden attack of glomping almost caused him to spill the gravy all over the kitchen, and for once, Ellana did not push the issue. But this did not stop her pout from turning into a full-time scowl and changing the mood into something you expected at funerals, rather than at First Greeting dinner.

Solas feared he had stumbled head-first onto another cultural no-no he didn't understand. It made dinner, usually a plesant affair and one he had been looking forward to, into a dull, awkwardly prolonged suffering, where the roast tasted tough and tasteless, and the wine was like ashes on his tongue.

Ellana pushed her food listlessly along her plate, avoiding his gaze and any conversation attempts with a closed off frown.

Unable to bear it any longer, Solas removed himself from the table abruptly with a hasty excuse and fished out the present he had hidden under one of the loose floorboards in his bedroom.

Gripping the present with uncalled for force, Solas proceeded downstairs whilst engaging in many desperate arguments with himself. Unable to find a suitable solution, he instead hovered behind Ellana's dejected shoulders, trying to think of a way to give her the present without making a greater fool of himself than he already was.

Eventually the crinkle of the wrapping paper under his anxious fingers drew her attention from her plate, and he was caught red-handed, trapped in her curious gaze without any discernable change in expression.

Closing his eyes in dejection Solas offered her the package without explanation. 

For twenty traitorous heartbeats he waited, tense and unmoving like a statue, eyes closed because he could not bear see her reaction to his stupid-

The package was removed from his grasp and Solas dared open his eyes to see her turn the package under her hands with a frown, tugging at the ribbon wrapped around it without comprehension.

It occurred to him that the Dalish likely never wrapped presents; wasteful resources better spent elsewhere.

Eventually she managed to remove the ribbon, and with careful fingers Ellana eased the pieces of tape holding the wrapping together.

Solas tried to find his voice as she lifted the robe from the package and the slippers tumbled onto the floor.

It was unapologetically pink. Like the shift and the faded linens she insisted on re-using on her modest bedroll. There was a kitten embroidered on one of the pockets. The fabric was a downy terry that would keep her warm, with white fluffy accents on her collar, the cuffs, and the hem. The slippers matched the robe in coloring. 

In the moment, Solas felt ashamed of rubbing their age difference in her face. It was likely not what Ellana wanted from a present at her age. It was quite possibly the worst possible make-up present in the history of gift giving, bought for purely selfish reasons and with dishonest ulterior motives wrapped in its appearance.

And yet Ellana hugged the robe to her chest like it was the finest silk dress, a blissful smile on her face and a distinct darkening in the tanned skin of her cheeks as she buried her face in the softness of the fabric.

She shyly tugged the slippers close with her feet, and sunk her toes inside them daintly.

Solas might have accidentally gotten something right for a change; a novelty that spread from his heart like a wave of warm relief.

Ellana glanced up at him from under her lashes when he exhaled in relief, hiding her face back in the safety of the robe when he caught her gaze.

The dinner's taste was much improved by her smile, and Solas actually found himself relaxing as the night progressed.

A tranquil peace settled over them as they digested their meal on the sofa, with her curled against his chest, covered by her new bathrobe, fresh from a hot shower. Solas for once felt no discomfort, shielded by the mass of pink terry wrapped around her body and acting like a safety buffer between his sense of propriety and her whims.

Solas was so relaxed and content by the current situation, he did not even start when Ellana slipped into his bed that night. Despite the blatant violation of their agreement, Solas found no strength of will strong enough to berate her and ruin the peace he had only just re-established.

Ellana's toes were warm as they dug in between his legs, her arms encircled his waist from behind with a contented sigh, and Solas found any reprimand die on his lips when he felt her smiling lips press against his shoulderblades for a brief, fluttering instant before she settled down to sleep.

Solas fell asleep thinking about how rules always had one exception, and that he would allow this one to pass and call it a Wintersend miracle.

\---


	10. Friendship (?) in six easy steps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More holiday shenaningans, peppered by lots of introspection. And you get a boatload of supporting characters introduced in just one chapter; hold onto your hats kiddies, this ship is setting sail!
> 
> Ps. Ellana has a secret treasure trove of pink things hidden in her aravel; this includes the wrapping paper.  
> Pps. Solas dropped the 'exquisite misery' under the table when no one was looking by 'accident', and flushed it down with a large flute of champagne. One bite was more than enough to make his mouth taste vile for the next week.

On the morning of Second Brunch, Solas watched warily by as Ellana added together the mismatched patches of knitting she had been engaging in for the past three weeks.

With a bit of work, the pieces made up a kind of sweater; however, the sleeves were not equal in length, and the torso was humorously lumpy and far too wide, even for a Qunari!

Solas found himself really hoping this was not meant as another present for him, because even he would not be able to humor wearing it, and this was something coming from his low standards which usually consisted of; if its not falling apart and it is utilitarian, I'll wear it.

If it came to it, Solas resolved to pass on the 'gift' to Dorian who would likely burn it for the good of Thedas, and Solas could pretend he had merely mislaid it.

But as it turned out, the gift was not meant for him at all.

Ellana had insisted on taking the sweater with them when they went to visit Sophia, and Solas inwardly cringed at the prospect of being forced to put it on in order for the old ladies of the knitting circle to critique it.

But instead of him being forced to pull it on at all, Ellana held out the sweater to Sophia shyly, mumbling something in her native elvish Solas couldn't likely catch even if he had been listening.

"Why, dear girl, is this for me?" Sophia showed no sign of distress at being the recepient of possibly the most awful sweater of all time.

Ellana nodded sheepishly.

"My, how thoughtful of you dear girl," Sophia chuckled fondly, considering the links and the patterns on the sweater, "How marvelous! You've really worked hard, and such improvement!" The old woman congratulated her, "I'll cherish it my dear. Thank you, you do an old lady proud,"

Ellana hesitantly stepped closer and closed her arms around the frail old woman, and Solas swore his heart almost began beating its way out of his chest, aching sorely with each pulse in fear for Sophia's well-being.

But Sophia smiled and held the girl, much more warmly and successfully than any of Solas' paltry attempts at comfort, and murmured something in a soothing tone into the young girl's ear.

The ladies separated, a kind of mist in both their eyes, smiling at each other.

"I am glad to have met you my dear," Sophia said cryptically, "But I am even more glad you met him,"

Ellana smiled back in reply, a more common occurrence each day, but which always surprised Solas by the warmth and radiance it emitted all around her.

"Oh yes," Sophia chortled, eyeing his confusion with a mysterious smile, "Very happy indeed,"

Solas spent the rest of the visit trying to puzzle out this confusing interaction, and combined with his desperate attempts to ignore the void-awful sweater Sophia had pulled over her sensible cardigan, made him lose his game of chess in only seven moves.

Ellana spent the visit starting over from scratch with a fresh ball of yarn, hopefully not on a matching sweater for him, smiling enigmatically all the while.

Perversely, seeing Sophia's reaction, which Solas was being led to believe to be genuine, he couldn't help but compare it to Ellana's reaction to his gift, and wonder what the difference was exactly, and why trying to pinpoint it made him so flustered he lost the next game in five moves?

Something was changing; Solas could not point out what it was, but he knew it started in a messy tangle inside of his chest and spread all over his body until he could not think straight anymore. And yet, thinking of the way Ellana had thought to make Sophia a present for Wintersend, Solas pondered on whether it might not be such a terrible change as he feared.

Perhaps Solas was happy too, to have met someone as kind and generous as Ellana.

\---

 

On Third Serving, Ellana surprised him by making him frilly cakes from scratch on her own.

His kitchenette was an absolute mess after the fact, the cakes were slightly crispy on the surface, and the unsweetened buttercream had been slathered on top sloppily rather than artistically assembled into swirls with a piping bag, but it was a gesture that surprised Solas by the intensity of the happiness it birthed in his chest.

Ellana had never looked more ridiculous, holding the plate full of the mismatched cakes awkwardly with one arm, puffing her rapidly outgrowing bangs from her eyes, her face smeared with melted chocolate and her right fingers slightly sticky from handling the cream, but the shy smile she offered him with the cakes, gripped his heart and squeezed it tight by a fondness that frightened Solas by its strength.

It scared him that he didn't know why his fingers involuntarily reached out to clean the chocolate on her cheek. Nor could he tell when the way Ellana ducked her head behind her bangs and fled downstairs after she shoved the plate at him in response to his touch had become endearing rather than annoying, even if it meant Solas had to clean up the kitchenette himself because he could not get her to leave her aravel until dinner. 

Solas endured it, because despite everything, the cakes were delightful and thoughtful, and made him more happy than angry, even if he couldn't understand why.

\---

 

The party was loud, and not for the first time, Solas wished Dorian had taken elven hearing into account when he had planned the volume for this atrocity the humans called 'popular' music.

Ellana seemed at ease. Solas had never seen her toss back drinks before, but she was doing it now, putting down wine like water.

She was surrounded by some of Dorian's more colorful friends, while Solas watched anxiously from the sidelines. They appeared to be playing cards and were swapping outrageous stories.

Solas was nursing his single goblet of wine, wondering at this side of her, and found himself imagining her among her kind, as carefree and casual as she appeared to be now, telling dirty stories and laughing like no tomorrow.

Solas had not seen her so happy in his company, and it made him wonder if he truly knew her at all?

It was a sobering thought, for the Ellana he knew was dutiful, serious and one who did not smile much at all. This Ellana was grinning from ear to ear, face pleasantly flushed from joy and her eyes dancing with the flames of mirth as she began guffawing without restraint at the punchline of the former soldier's comical story about a hapless, underdressed recruit.

Solas felt like a shadow sucking all the joy out of life, until everything he touched was as ruined a wreck as he himself was. Even his thoughts were grim and depressing, especially when under influence of alcohol, and only his concern for Ellana's intoxicated person kept him steady and clear-sighted enough to stop at one glass, ready to render assistance should she stumble and fall.

"So," Sera, dressed in a ridiculously mismatched ensemble of a bright red tunic she had on the wrong way round and a mustard stained pair of canary yellow pants, loudly demanded from the unfamilar elven girl opposite her, "Have you an' Elfy Baldypants done it yet?"

Ellana scrunched her bows, "Done what?" She drawled in confusion.

"You know, the nasty?" Sera snorted, "He's been hovering over your shoulder like an old dog in heat all evening," Sera stuck her throat to show elucidate her point, "Ugh, you must've at least pity kissed him under the mistletoe, right? 'Cuz Maker knows, he ain't getting any otherwise-"

"Please Sera," Cassandra, the grim Nevarran born officer of the law and only recently promoted detective, chastised Sera, ever the voice of reason even imbibing too much Qunari brewn firewater, "Stop being so crass. It's disrespectful, Solas' love life is none of our business, and we should respect his privacy,"

Solas reigned in his impulse to throw his drink at Sera, placated by Cassandra reading his mood correctly, as usual.

"'S not what Dory says," Sera cackled, "They're really lovey-dovey all the flipping time an' it makes me sick, so they should just get on with it,"

You could hear the sounds of eyerolls around the table, and Solas wasn't sure he was supposed to be pleased by their understanding of his character, or slighted by their implication Solas had no love life to speak of... even if it was true.

Come to think of it, Solas had not been with anyone half-intimately in over twenty years, and even the intimacy he had experienced before that could be called dubious in terms of both affection and permanency, and not one of those encounters had left him feeling anything less than disappointed and/or traumatised. Solas took a deep gulp of his drink to forget he had even remembered those people again, even in passing.

"Sera's wild tales aside, I do claim there is something going on," Dorian leaned forward confidentially, "You know how Solas has been avoiding all our little meetings lately?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, "It's all because of sweet little Ellana here twining him around her little finger. She's living with him now,"

A chorus of astonished denials erupted around the table.

"Nah, you're shitting me Sparkles!" Varric the dwarven journalist scoffed, fighting a hysterical fit of laughter, "There's no way Chuckles would ever let anyone into his store, let alone his home!"

Ellana frowned, a much more familiar expression on her pretty face, which Solas recognised as rising annoyance from hard won personal experience.

"It's true!" Dorian maintained, shoving Ellana fondly with his champagne flute, "Don't be shy sweetheart, there's nothing to be ashamed of! He's a dependable guy and one of the nic-nicest people I know," Dorian yawned, the late hour and drink consumed taking his toll on him at last, "If it makes you happy, you do whatever you want with him,"

Ellana glared at Sera who found this hilarious to the point of her chair tilting and crashing to the floor, with her still on it, drowning in a fit of hooting.

Ellana spat in a fluent string of elvish in her strange, garbled and incomprehensible Dalish dialect, getting up and stomping off, or swaying off might be a closer description.

"Betcha he shouts 'Elven Glory' when they do it!" Sera hollered after her with a gleeful snigger.

Solas followed after Ellana, deciding on not interfering with the thoroughly pissed party, who wouldn't likely remember any admonitions he might preach anyway. He found her sitting down in one of the many 'fashionable' alcoves in Dorian's apartments, puking into a decorative palm tree sapling, all her previous good humor evaporated with the contents of her stomach.

"Come on da'len," Solas muttered as he wiped her pale chin of vomit with his handkerchief, "Let's go home; you need your rest," when she showed no sign of being able to stand up, Solas gathered her spindly limbs up in his arms, taking care not to damage the expensive silk dress on loan from Dorian for the express purposes of not embarrassing him at his own party, and left the party behind for the bitter, frozen air of Haven's winter nights.

The sky was dotted with stars, clear and still as a pond, and with some difficulty and adjustments, he managed to deposit her dozing body on the backseat, reminding him of similar circumstances what felt like almost a lifetime ago somehow.

He tucked an errant lock of raven hair behind a delicate pointed ear, before starting up the car and backing out the parking lot for the short, uneventful ride home.

Mindful of Dorian's constant lectures, once home he didn't let Ellana just collapse into her bedroll; he managed to help her out the dress with some clever maneuvering and clumsily untying the fastenings on her dress by hand until she caught on with a drunken giggle, and she undressed all the way on her own. Solas left the full-length gloves on, because he had no idea if he could remove the left one without causing her harm in her current state.

Getting her out the dress was just the start of his problems; Solas had to wrestle her into the bedroll, which she found very amusing as she tried to wriggle away into his bed instead. Solas was woefully aware she was dressed in nothing but a bra and silken underpants.

"Hahren..." she cooed breathlessly as he tackled her down, and she whispered huskily in his ear in the strange language she favored as he pushed her back into her bedroll for the fifth time.

"You need to sleep it off," Solas grunted irately, "You're not yourself,"

"I'd sleep better if you'd sleep beside me," Ellana shot back, patting the empty space in her bedroll suggestively, big enough for two.

His impulse to comply if only to get her to settle down was somewhat derailed when one foot slid against his thigh before settling under the covers again, her eyes dancing with mirth in the dark.

"Ellana," he cleared his throat before putting on his most forbidding scary face, "You are drunk,"

She ignored him, draping her right arm behind his neck and fluttered her eyelashes at him with a teasing grin.

Solas wanted to slap his forehead but didn't dare let up the pressure holding her down for fear she'd slip his grasp, again, and he'd have to chase her down the house with her in her undergarments, again. He was not keen to repeat that particular event; the hairdresser opposite his shop still wouldn't speak to him.

"Ellana, let go," he warned her, "We've talked about this; clothes on-"

"No," she ran a finger along his ear cheerily, "Today is Lover's Toll. And that means you should slip under my blankets to keep warm," she drawled, an expression on her face that froze his into stone.

"Don't make jokes like that," Solas shrugged her arm off with a growl.

"'M not," Ellana yawned, her eyes unfocusing, but her fingers still reached for his shirt.

Solas stepped out of her range, feeling tense and annoyed.

"Hahren..." her voice was definitely sleepy now, she lay face down in a tiff, muttering something at him, muffled by the pillows, making her tone difficult to place, "Why are you always like this?" She grumbled, her voice trailing off as she hiccupped, "I don- I don't understand..."

Watching her shiver, Solas, having regained some self-control, tucked her carefully under her pink blanket.

Her fingers reached for his and he stepped away before they could try to snare him again.

Ellana burrowed deeper in her bedroll with a huff and drifted towards sleep, muttering to herself in that same garbled elvish he had heard her speak many times before.

Solas breathed like the bellows, gathered the silky black dress and hung it up, before heading downstairs for a long, cold shower to clear his ire from his bloodstream.

He made a note to never let her touch alcohol again in the near future, and certainly not in those amounts.

\---

 

Ellana was too hungover to do much more than moan in bed for the rest of Lover's Toll. Frankly she looked terrible when she eventually did drag herself out of bed; her hair was sticking in every direction, her usually clear skin was matted with sweat and covered by the lingering reek of strong liquor.

Remembering the last time she had been sick, Solas did his best to nurse her back to health in time for Sixth Nightfall and the fete held at the Theatre Hall, in no small part due to Lady Montilyet's love for the Opera.

Ellana still was slightly out of sorts by the time they were due for the party, and Solas promised himself he'd not linger longer than absolutely necessary for fear she would catch cold, or get sicker from ingesting more of the poison that had caused her condition in the first place from the free champagne on offer.

Lady Montilyet greeted him with surprise in the lobby, clad in a tactfully exuberant black evening gown with discreet gold trimmed accents hidden in the seams.

"Oh, mister Wolfe, I am so glad you could make it," the woman quickly recovered, displaying her formidable skills at diplomacy to best effect, "I don't think I've had the pleasure of meeting your lovely companion before," she prodded much more delicately than most.

"This is Ellana Lavellan," Solas introduced the abnormally withdrawn girl holding onto the crook of his arm with an iron grip.

"Josephine Montilyet," the lady graciously bowed her head just the perfect fraction, "I am Vice-president of the Academy, and the chief administrator,"

Ellana nodded back jerkily, and Solas supposed it was the best he could expect of her in her current condition.

"Perhaps we might speak more later," the gentlewoman hinted, glancing at more guests arriving behind them, "I would love to speak with you some more; it has been too long since we have had the chance to chat properly,"

"Yes," Solas attempted to smile back nervously, "I would like that very much,"

He led Ellana in her borrowed silk dress and gloves down to mingle with the other guests on the VIP reserved third floor, feeling extra conspicuous in the ridiculous dress suit Dorian had forced him into for the black-tie event, insisting Solas' case would be mortally wounded by disgracing his employer at her own fete. 

Solas and Ellana were one of the very few elves in attendance who were not part of the catering crew, and this naturally elicited quite a bit of talk among the dignitaries and various Academy personnel who recognised him.

"Who is that with him do you know? I thought elves didn't marry, and what is she, at least two decades younger than he is?" One particularly indiscreet gossiper lacking in volume control whispered loud enough for half the room to have heard as the pair of elves passed him on their way to the refreshment table.

"Disgusting," the other nobleman tutted, "Look at her face! Those heathen tattoos, in public! She should have had the decency of covering up those travesties,"

"You'd think a man of his years would be above such crass behaviour,"

Solas tuned them out and after some deliberation, he offered a pastry to his silent, unusually pale companion.

Ellana unenthusiastically bit into the confection, and Solas' stomach dropped with concern, because he had made sure to pick the one with venison paste on it, which he knew her to be partial to. It wasn't sweet, and he had taste-tested each one, at great personal cost because he detested these kinds of salty party treats (even the anise and deep mushroom one, an experience he was not keen to repeat, ever), before offering her one which he deemed palatable enough.

Solas wondered how to cheer up his listless companion who was nibbling on the meat pastry.

Frankly, his knowledge of her likes consisted of books on magitech theory, fixing mechanical appliances, running around whilst scantily clad, and the color pink, none of which were in easy supply here.

He decided some ambling about and taking in the sights of the Hall might lift her spirits before the show began; Lady Montilyet was a great patron of the arts and there were many marvelous exhibits on display.

They toured the small gallery in the lounge, but nothing seemed to be able to elicit even the smallest interest or smile from Ellana.

In desperation, and since Lady Montilyet had not been able to follow up his suggestion of speaking with them before the celebratory performance began, Solas reluctantly sat down for the night's entertainment, a local rendition of an (in)famous Orlesian opera.

It was about as gruesome and elven ear shattering as Solas had expected. He and Ellana had to use the earplugs Solas had prepared beforehand for the express purpose of not losing all their hearing from the encounter. It was testament to the commitment of the actors to providing a show worthy of the scandalous 'Her Perfumed Sanctuary', that even with the earplugs in place, Solas could still hear the performance.

Ellana almost jumped out of her seat several times during the play, jolted by the sudden pyrotechnics or the scares used as part of the theatrics. Only Solas' insisting hand over her shoulders kept her from escaping the Hall; in the end she was reduced to covering her ears and hiding her head on his shoulder by the time they hit the gruesome and dramatic final battle scene.

The show elicited a standing ovation and Solas took the opportunity to escape the oppressive hall for Ellana's sake who was wilting in sight, before the encore.

"Shems are insane!" Ellana burst out once she had her earplugs out, "What was that supposed to be other than an appalling waste of resources?!"

"The humans consider it great art," Solas removed his own earplugs and groaned at the keening sound stuck to his sensitive ears anyway, "That particular play would not have been my choice for an introduction to the Opera, if you had to suffer through a night at the Opera at all, but the Orlesians do love their spectacles,"

"Why are we here anyway hahren?" Ellana whined dejectedly, "I just want to go home,"

Solas hesitated before putting an arm around her shoulders, "Once we catch lady Montilyet, we'll head straight home. I have no intention of sitting through the second, nevermind the third act," he reassured her.

"There's more?" Ellana sounded horrified.

"I believe the held record is sixteen acts performed throughout two weeks, three ages ago at the Val Royeaux Grande Theatre," Solas informed her ruefully, chuckling at her dumb-truck expression.

Ellana expressed her disapproval by a vehement strand of elvish.

"Oh I quite agree," Solas smirked, and this earned him the first smile he had seen on her face for the past two days.

They looked at each other for a long moment in comfortable silence, and for once, Solas did not feel awkward holding her stare.

She ducked her head shyly, one finger playing with his cravat, "Hahren, I was-"

"Ah, Mr Wolfe," a politely insistent voice interrupted her, and Ellana's face fell into her usual cold neutrality. She wound out from under his arm to stand by his side as they turned to greet their gracious hostess.

"My sincere apologies for not speaking to you earlier," Josephine cordially acknowledged them with a tiny tip of her elegantly coiffed head, crowned by a discreet golden band in the form of laurels. She truly was one of the most beautiful and charismatic females Solas had had the pleasure of meeting, an altogether too rare breed of gentry, dying out in this pessimistic and uncivil age.

"I was most curious to find you in company Mr Wolfe," Josephine continued seamlessly, "I have not had the pleasure of meeting your companion before at my fetes,"

"Actually," Solas steeled himself, he disliked revealing any aspects of his personal life to anyone, but in the sake of fairness, he could not conceal Ellana's stay with honor any longer, "She is the reason we have come,"

"Oh?" Josephine exclaimed with more courtesy than the other gossipy gentry here, making no assumptions; one of the few people Solas truly esteemed for their open minded attitude, "Truly?"

Solas nodded, glancing at Ellana's stony countenance before launching into a brief summary of Ellana's desperate situation and how he had no choice but to accomodate her himself.

Josephine listened patiently, her face growing more serious as the story progressed.

"This is appalling!" She finally declared, "That an Academy aligned organisation would deny its services to any of our students is unheard of, but a scholarship student with housing benefits thrown in? You should have come to me immediately, I will have a sharp word with these-"

"I registered several complaints," Solas interrupted wearily, "Under several aliases as well, when my inquiries informed me they went missing. Then I dug through Ellana's scholarship details. There is precedent for her situation, and the Dormitories have all banned Ellana under that clause,"

"Nevertheless," Josephine resolutely set her shoulders, "She is a student, and all students are entitled to housing on campus grounds, no matter the charges, it is discrimination to-"

"You must understand Lady Montilyet," Solas bit the bullet and informed her of the unvarnished truth, before she found out later from someone else, "That sadly, the allegations are not false. Ellana did destroy Academy property and violated their rules, but only because she did not know better. Her upbringing is to blame, but ultimately they have the grounds to keep her banned,"

Josephine glanced at the silent girl, before carefully continuing, "You have not reported any damage to the shop, and if anything, your productivity and profits have increased in this quarter significantly. I find it hard to believe-"

"Only because I have been supervising her, and while she has been of great help around the store," Solas explained, "The truth is if I had not kept an eye on her, there were several opportunities when it could have ended up much worse,"

"I see," Josephine considered these facts, "I will speak to the Dormitory board anyway, try to make them see reason. It is not right to treat our students in such an appalling manner, which almost lead to loss of life!" She tutted disapprovingly.

Solas had no doubt this woman could wind the board around her little finger if she had to, but when weighing the displeasure of Lady Montilyet to the property damage and other annoyances Ellana living there would cause, Solas was not sure even Lady Montilyet could tip the scale her own way.

"You are a gallant man Mr Wolfe, for offering your services so generously to a young woman in need," Josephine praised him with a smile, "Of course she may stay with you until she finds a place of her own; the living is yours to do as you please, and I trust your judgment on the matter,"

"Thank you, lady Montilyet" Solas bowed in the formal fashion and kissed the offered hand in the Orlesian style, missing the sharp glare levelled at him by Ellana, "You must excuse us, we must depart home shortly,"

"Of course Mr Wolfe," Josephine gracefully bade them goodbye, "We will speak later,"

Solas offered his arm to Ellana who refused it and stomped away in a fury Solas could not comprehend, and he hurried after her in mounting concern, flashing Josephine an apologetic smile over his shoulder.

Ellana refused to speak to him all evening, no matter how Solas prompted her, and his day ended on an unhappy note, staring at her turned back on the floor beside his bed, and wondering what he had done this time to set her off.

\---

 

Solas' relief at having convinced Lady Montilyet of Ellana's desperate plight was short lived as his home life began to suffer greatly from another onset of baffling icy behaviour.

It was like they were back at the start of their acquaintance, where Ellana didn't speak to him, didn't stand close to him, and all the closeness he had begun to take for granted had suddenly been revoked.

Ellana no longer sat in his lap on the sofa, she began spending all her time with her nose buried in a book, and she had started dressing up in jeans and the hoodie again, hiding her face behind her shoulder length black tresses she had not cut since moving in with him, her knitting needles stood abandoned in the small basket he had fashioned her from old books bound for the shredder, and finally, she ignored and avoided him in every way possible.

Ellana didn't even wear the slippers.

Solas tried to be pleased that she seemed to have at last begun acting like a sensible person, but the sight of her abandoning the slippers she had seemed enamored with not six days ago stung more than Solas had expected.

Solas was surprised at how big a difference it made. It was like the world had grown dim, muted, black and white in his eyes, all the emotion and impulses bleeding away along with all the color, fading by way of her indifference and a cold gaze that was devoid of any personality.

What could Solas do? It was the Seventh Sending, the last day of Wintersend, and the sobriety that hung in the air was both oppressive and leeched all the warmth from his chilly house, until all that remained were the ashes of companionship, long dead to any heat or life.

Solas observed Ellana from the second landing, her back bent over the tome, her face cold, rational and logical.

He glanced at the basket holding the remains of her knitting, left out in the open on one of his unofficial 'tables', and noted a small string of something pink poking from underneath the yarn balls.

He pulled out the fancy ribbon the shop had bound the present parcel with, all pink lace done in fancy Orlesian style.

It felt like silk through his rough, calloused fingers.

She had kept it, but that was not surprising; the Dalish were thrifty and recycled everything. However, the ribbon had been put aside, like a secret trinket, put to no further use, just for looking.

Ellana must have really cherished the gift, more than Solas had ever expected her to. In retrospect it was obvious, but the ribbon cut into his heart with regret and a fresh pang of guilt stronger than he believed himself capable of at this point in his life.

A memory unearthed itself from the forgotten depths of his mind; of a tiny ramshackle village and an even smaller house, a towering figure of a smiling young girl with flowing auburn curls, tied away from her face with a ribbon, bound by clumsy baby fingers. 

Without thinking Solas proceeded downstairs, approaching Ellana like she was a wild animal, and when no reaction was forthcoming, he hesitantly dipped his fingers into her silken hair, pulling the strands together and hastily binding them with the ribbon before he lost his nerve or she slapped his hands away.

Ellana stiffened under his fumbling fingers, and when he stepped back, she reached out to pull the ponytail over one shoulder, running her fingers along the ribbon with a sigh.

"Are you sure you're not Dalish hahren?" Her voice was thick and her shoulders shuddered as she sought to control her breathing.

"I'm not Dalish," Solas returned after a moment of useless dithering about how to right one more spectacular cock-up with no clue how he cocked-up in the first place, or what had posessed him to think that this was a good idea, "As you well know,"

She choked a sob, "Oh, believe me Hahren. I know," she stroked the ribbon thoughtfully.

Solas hovered his hand over her shoulder, weighing the pros and cons about risking more contact.

"Do you want me to stay?" She repeated the baffling question.

"Of course-"

"Then put you hand on my right shoulder and I'll forgive you," her voice suggested weakly, blowing her nose vocally.

"What happens if I touch the left one?" Solas countered warily.

"Then I leave and it's over, no questions asked," Ellana returned, her voice hiccuping.

Solas' hand halted as another doubt assailed him, "And if I touch neither?" He asked suspiciously, not willing to blunder his way into anymore debt.

"In terms of indifference and rejection, they amount to the same thing as touching my left shoulder," she informed him helpfully, "Choice of body part would denote severity of rejection to varying degrees,"

Solas grimaced, "Isn't that ridiculously complicated?" He demanded, "What if you forget and accidentally touch the wrong part?"

"Not to a Dalish," Ellana remarked enigmatically.

Solas hesitantly brushed his fingers along her right shoulderblade, no more heavier than a feather's weight, but the effect hit her like ton of bricks; Ellana whipped around to crush her arms around his midsection with a whimper.

Ellana sniffled into his shirt. Solas wasn't sure he was off the hook yet, not with her crying aloud because of him simply tying her hair with a ribbon. The more he learned about Dalish customs, the more they puzzled him.

He put his arms around her stiffly, like he was not made from organic material, but something unyielding and robotic. Solas pet her hair awkwardly. It was odd, he decided, how easily he had gotten used to someone touching him, when once his only reaction to touch would have been violence and fear it was a trick to lower his guard.

Ellana had changed him. Solas was just the last to find out.

"I-I'm sorry," he sincerely offered, "my friend," he added more in an amazed whisper to himself than for her benefit.

Solas had few true friends. Friendship with Sophia had always been easy, a meeting of the minds, controlled, undemanding and safe, even for someone as broken as he, to enjoy within his strict limits. 

Ellana was... very different. She pushed his established limits to the extreme and being her friend meant learning how to see things from her persepective and learn how to compromise for someone else's benefit; a talent he was still mastering truth be told.

A dark part of his heart, one that rejected people easier than accepted them and feared to trust anyone, had been touched by her easy acceptance of him and all the unconditional aid she had freely bequeathed him with. It was Solas who found it hard to do the same for her, despite Ellana asking for so little and taking, in the end, precious little away that she didn't give back.

Solas ran his hands through her hair and tried not to look too deep into the well of his many sorrows. It would be too easy to tip over the edge and fall into the abyss of his despair and self-loathing. Ellana deserved better than him wallowing in misery.

"Come on," Solas tugged her shoulder to follow him once the worst of her tears passed, "I'll make you some hot chocolate. I don't want you to catch cold,"

Ellana took his proferred hand meekly and allowed him to tuck her into the sofa. With her feet once again covered by the slippers she loved, a hot cup of chocolate flavored beverage warming her insides as she leaned on his chest, continuing her undecipherable knitting, Solas felt relieved everything was back to normal again.

Solas didn't even fight back when she snuggled into his arms that night in bed, and not against his back like usual; she tucked her head under his chin, and though her body cut blood circulation to his hand, Solas didn't have the heart to not wrap his arms around her back, dressed in that silly pink shift embroidered with kittens.

It made her happy. Solas didn't know why, but some of it stuck into his skin and wormed its way into his cold, stone heart and made him feel better somehow.

Solas decided he could learn to live with it when the next night she jumped straight into his arms and ignored her own bedroll.

\---


	11. The war has only just begun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Luckily for you all, I had enough material left over to write this chapter so quickly! The next one might take some doing, but hopefully I can promise you an update soon, I'm feeling inspired thanks to all the lovely feedback.
> 
> Now rated M for topless scenes, and the Iron Bull; not fit for young children.
> 
> Ps. The Chargers are an unofficial, co-ed, open to all races and creeds sports team, with an unorthodox methodology to winning competitions, and is reigning champion of the Haven pub-league football team.  
> Pps. Sera nicked the doomed greens from the dumpster behind the grocerer's mentioned in chapter... 4? I think.

Solas knew taking Ellana to that party had been a mistake.

But he couldn't well have refused Dorian, not without insulting one of his best, and most frivolous, customers. 

Now their mutual acquaintance had scented blood in the water, and every single one of them wanted to know the details, which Dorian had likely already blabbed for their benefit, so to be accurate, to confirm said details.

Some of the attention was not so welcome; waking up to find Sera had filled his apartment with rotten cabbages and various similiar vegetables, and cleaning the remains of the cauliflower massacre from his property, was not the most pleasant of ways to spend the day.

When the last smelly cabbage was disposed of, Solas rotten mood plummeted further when he returned to the store level to close up for the day, only to find not just one potential customer, but two!

"Chuckles! So glad you could join us," Varric, the ever cheerful and loquacious dwarven man, greeted him by the counter, and Cassandra, who was looming behind the man, rolled her eyes at the wildly inaccurate nickname.

"Now, as I was saying Handy," Varric smoothly continued his tale, Ellana for once sitting in rapt attention, leaning forward with her head in her hands over the other side of the counter, "Turns out, none of these so-called bookstores around here stocked anything of the sort, and after a lot of desperate digging, I happened upon this unmarked and unknown shop, and I thought, 'why not?' because at that point, the worst that could happen was some clerk sneering down at me and informing me there was no such book in their inventory,"

Solas groaned, not only at the 'nickname' that had been bestowed upon Ellana, but at the familiar story slipping the tactless dwarf's lips.

"When I turn up here, and Chuckles over there gave me the biggest stink-eye you can imagine," Varric exaggerated, "Just for daring to cross his threshold! However, my charming looks won him over, and after I had explained my woes, he pulled out not one, but three relevant books from under the counter! Like magic!"

"You really should be careful Handy," Varric winked shamelessly at the girl, "Any man who stocks three different types of ballistics studies that can be used to accurately maim and murder a man at a hundred paces, and six different manuals how to build repeating crossbows, is not a man to be crossed,"

Cassandra approached him apologetically as Varric launched into another round of embarrassing stories about Solas, "My apologies, but you know how he is; until he's got it out of his system, the best I can do is keep watch and ensure Varric does not stretch the lines of good taste too far,"

Solas nodded stiffly, listening with half an ear as Varric regaled Ellana with a rendition of the first party Dorian had dragged Solas to, and how he had been subsequently banned from playing cards ever since.

"How have you been?" Cassandra shuffled awkwardly.

"Fine," Solas curtly responded.

"I am glad to hear it," Cassandra offered sincerely, "After all that has happened to you, it is a relief to see you are happy,"

Solas raised an eyebrow. Just what qualified people to start classifying Solas as 'happy', when he did not feel anything of the sort? Of all the possible adjectives you could use in conjunction with himself, 'happy' did not even feature as far as Solas was concerned.

"She seems nice," Cassandra continued, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly, "For a while there I was quite worried about you, but I am glad things have worked out,"

"Thank you?" Solas hesitated, uncertain what was going on.

"I-if you need any advice or help, you know I am always-" Cassandra was interrupted by Varric's loud punchline.

"-and he pat the dazed woman's back, wished her a nice day and walked off!" Varric burst into raucous laughter at his own joke, which Ellana joined with her own giggles.

"That's so like hahren!" Ellana wheezed.

"And that wasn't even the worst part!" Varric chortled, "The woman-"

"Alright dwarf," Cassandra mercifully intervened before Varric went into detail on that particular catastrophe, "I think that's enough humiliation for one day,"

Varric ignored Cassandra and continued under his breath confidentially, only not to the standards of any moral men, because the whisper was more like a shout, "The woman's clothes consisted of whipped cream in strategic areas!"

Ellana shook her head with mirth, "Of course they did,"

"Stark naked, pretty, amorous, and easy, ready to jump at the man who had just saved her from the worst sort of situation; and he just walks away!" Varric exclaimed, "Andraste's tits, you should have seen Tiny's expression, it was-"

"Hilarious," Cassandra interrupted deadpan, crossing her arms and leveling the unapologetic dwarf with a glare, "We're leaving now, Varric," she stated implacably.

Varric rolled his eyes, "Sorry Handy, let's continue this at another time; you ever want a drink, you know who to call," he passed the girl a business card before he allowed the perpetually angry human to herd him out of the store.

Solas slammed the door shut behind them and locked up irritably, yearning for a hot shower to rinse out the scent of moldy vegetables.

"Why does he call you 'Chuckles'?" Ellana interrupted his brooding, flicking the card between her fingers.

"Because any qualities I lack, he delights in inventing for me," Solas replied with a sarcastic eyeroll, "Apparently I do not smile or laugh as much as I should, and that name is his unsubtle hint about what to do about it," Solas grumbled as he proceeded upstairs, making a beeline for the shower.

Solas began undressing as soon as he was in the privacy of the cramped shower, and perhaps it was a mercy he had started with his shirt and had stopped to fold it, because when Ellana's right hand fingers began tickling his side, he was not completely, mortifyingly naked as he attempted to leap out of reach and hit the washing machine instead, crumbling onto the floor to massage his aching hip.

Solas cussed in a fluent litany of elvish, groaning on the floor as he waited for the worst of the sharp pain to abate, and sadly this left his guard open for Ellana to exploit.

She cornered him on the floor, right hand mercilessly aiming for his sides and Solas had to engage in a desperate struggle to fend off the offending tips of her fingers; the fact he had to be careful around her left hand made this a lot harder than it should be in ordinary circumstances.

Ellana found his plight amusing, to the point that her efforts were derailed by her unceasing snorts and giggles, allowing Solas to gain the upper hand and end the conflict by twisting her right arm behind her back.

"You're ticklish hahren," she accused him with a playful grin.

"Or perhaps I do not care to be molested without a shirt on," Solas pointedly returned, aware his ears were giving him away by the tinge of pink no doubt spreading throughout.

Her left fingers made use of his pre-occupation, and with the tiniest of feathery touches brushed against his vulnerable ribs.

Solas bit his lip hard and tried to squirm out of range, but it was too late; sensing weakness, she continued her assault and Solas was reduced to shoving her off him roughly to keep his dignity intact.  
He had succumbed to a few undignified yelps, and glowered for all their worth.

"Please," Solas held up his hands when she tried to crawl back, "Please, Ellana. I smell like rotten cabbage, and am in no mood for this; I just want a shower, in peace,"

"Alright, hahren," she shrugged and made to leave the room, shooting him a teasing look that spelled trouble for his sanity.

His premonition was proven correct, when Ellana took every opportunity to attempt to tickle him for the forseeable future. 

\---

 

Three days after the tickling wars had begun, Solas was fending off another assault when the store bell rang, and Solas was faced with the worst possible position to be greeting his current employer.

Lady Montilyet raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at the frozen tableau of Solas, flushing like the setting sun, backed up against the counter, with a completely unapologetic Ellana whose hands were clutching his stomach.

"I hope I am not interrupting anything?" Josephine asked delicately, her countenance smooth like a master politician's.

Solas could swear he heard Ellana growl under her breath as she glared at the human woman. Then in a fit of obstinancy, she actually clamped her hands around his midsection instead of letting go.

Solas tried to dislodge the hands that seemed to be as inextricably fused around his hips as if they had been glued there, but found the endeavour to be pointless, especially when Ellana began to hiss at him and only held onto him tighter in response.

"She's nervous around strangers," Solas attempted to salvage the situation.

It was to Josephine's credit that she swallowed the pathetic excuse and did not agitate the situation further by calling him out on it.

It was only now Solas noted that lady Montilyet had a basket of what appeared to be fruit. The woman laid her offerings on the counter with a friendly smile, "I am afraid there was some excess at the brunch I held today," the woman explained jovially, "And then I thought that with another mouth to feed, you might find a use for them,"

"That is very generous of you," Solas returned with a weak smile.

"It was no trouble," Josephine waved her hand magnanimously, "I meant to come speak to you anyway," 

"After all the hard work you have been doing," the stylish Antivan pulled out a pair of documents from her briefcase, "Taking into account the increase in profits this shop has gained in the last year alone, I have determined that a small raise is in order,"

Solas gaped as his boss slid over his amended contact, with a very generous bonus included in the fine print. Apparently lady Montilyet's understanding of the word small was vastly different from his own definition.

"This is beyond generous Lady Montilyet," Solas hesitantly offered, still trying to pry Ellana off him discreetly.

"It's just Josephine, please," the woman smiled in return, "We have known each other for almost ten years,"

"Lady-" Solas began but amended his statement at her insistent glare, "Josephine, I am grateful but-"  
Ellana's grip tightened around his back, making it distinctly harder to breathe for him.

"But," Solas wheezed, "Surely such a large increase is beyond-"

"Nonesense," Josephine chuckled, "Indeed I feel bad for not thinking of offering you such a bonus before this, after your loyal service to the Academy,"

Solas did not add that it had been impossible for her to do so, due to the restrictions of his initial contract with the Academy. Just giving him the living had been pushing the limits enforced on his freedom, but now, with the compulsory observation period long past, and the time allotted for appeal and relapse would be coming to a close in the beginning of the following year...

"It would come into effect next February," Josephine headed off his line of thought.

Solas nodded tersely, not willing to dwell on those particular memories, he attempted to remove Ellana so he could sign the damn document.

When no such compromise was forthcoming, Solas had choice but to carefully angle himself to sign it over her head. Solas was certain his face would never stop burning from the shame; his only consolation was that Josephine's perfect poker face did not add another shade to his humiliation.

Josephine handed him one copy and put away the other with a professional smile, "It's always such a pleasure to see you Mr Wolfe, I will stay in touch if anything changes," she nodded courteously with a, "Good day to you," and sashayed back outside.

Once Solas was certain Josephine was out of range, he turned his attention to the immovable object around his torso.

"What were you thinking Ellana?!" Solas exclaimed vehemently, "Embarrassing me in front of Lady Montilyet like that was uncalled for; I was lucky she didn't fire me on the spot for such unbecoming conduct!"

Ellana did not respond.

Solas pinched the bridge of his nose, "What is going on Ellana? Why are you acting like a child in front of lady Montilyet, who has graciously allowed me to shelter you, even if it is against Academy policy!"

She shoved him hard in response, enough to make him stumble and force him to catch his breath, while Ellana stomped away upstairs.

"Ellana!" Solas growled in frustration, and rubbed his face with a moan when he distinctly heard the slam of his bedroom door.

She had not locked herself in the bedroom, had she? But then with the bitter winter cold outside having snowed in her aravel, it was her only option of protesting, even if Solas had no idea what she was protesting about!

He felt distinctly like the parent of a particularly difficult teenager as he rammed his fists on his own bedroom door.

"Ellana!" He demanded as sensibly and calmly as he could, "Ellana, you come out here and tell me what is going on!"

"Ell-" Solas halted mid-shout when he recognised the distinct muffled cries of someone bawling somewhere within.

He slammed his forehead on the door with a groan. Of course she was crying, why wouldn't she be crying? It was just another underhanded technique to add to his misery, rubbing in the idea that Solas was the one being unfair and cruel.

"Ellana," Solas asked wearily, "Why are you crying?"

"Because I knew it, you were lying!" She wailed.

"Ellana-"

"You said this was my home, but it was all a lie!" She accused him with a stuffy voice, full of tears, "This is her house!"

Solas was now thoroughly confused, did she mean Josephine? 

"Yes, I don't own the house Ellana, but I am sharing it with you for as long as you need it!" Solas shot back, knowing from past experience that this was his only chance in the next few days to get through to her before the tantrum took over. 

"Lady Montilyet is my employer," he explained slowly, as if to a child, "And this is Academy owned property, she is my overseer and will be held responsible if something happens to the house; I had to tell her about you or I would be committing fraud, or worse, if something happened, put her in a bad situation she'd have to clean up!"

An icy quiet emanated from the other room.

"Ellana," Solas licked his lips and continued, "This is your home, for as long as you need it. No one is taking that away from you. Lady Montilyet is a generous, good hearted woman; she will not take her word back now," he really needed to find out why this seemed such a sticking point to Ellana. Was she really that terrified she'd be thrown out that she had to cling to him physically?

Ellana replied in a string of Dalish profanities about Josephine, judging by the amount of times he caught her name in the litany.

"Don't talk like that about Lady Montilyet, Ellana," Solas forbade her, "She does not deserve such language nor such slander, not when she has been nothing but courteous and kind to you,"

She retorted with another curse Solas supposed to be directed at himself for daring to judge her.

"Ellana, I have no idea why you are so against Lady Montilyet, but it has to stop," Solas returned to the topic.

Ellana replied with a disgusted scoff.

"It stops now," Solas adamantly maintained.

"No!"

"Don't be childish Ellana!" Solas groaned, "This is getting us nowhere. Come out of there so we can discuss this like sensible adults,"

"I don't care. Go back to your precious lady Montilyet if she's so wonderful!" She spat back.

"What are you talking about Ellana?" Solas was exasperated, arguing with this impossible girl was exhausting work. 

"If your lady Montilyet is so perfect, what do you care if I'm so stupid and childish?! Leave me alone Solas!" She shouted, dropping the honorific she always used for him spitefully.

Solas counted to ten, slowly. Then another ten, and another five extra. This allowed him to gather his wits, and give him time to cool down. 

"Ellana," he interrupted her crying fit, "Are you jealous of Lady Montilyet?" He tried to reign in his annoyance at the ridiculous situation.

"I said go away!" She sobbed.

"Oh by the void and all the stars Ellana!" Solas burst out, his temper getting the better of him, "There is no reason to be jealous of Lady Montilyet!" He was the one who wanted to cry now; of all the ridiculous, stupid things he had experienced living with Ellana, this took the cake.

"I don't-"

"Whatever insane notion you have invented in your head, drop it right now" Solas roared, ticking off the offences as he understood them, "Lady Montilyet is my employer, nothing more, and she does not live here, she has never lived here and I dare say never will! She will not turn you out, she has no say in my personal affairs, and you-"

The door opened. 

Ellana stood in the doorway, her face awash with tears, her eyes wide and pleading; the overall effect was like that of a drowned kitten, staring up at him imploringly to rescue her from the rain.

It was manipulative. She was even mewling.

"Fenedhis," Solas cussed and pulled the damned girl into his arms, "The things you make me do, Ellana; I swear, someday soon I am going to have an aneurism,"

Ellana's response was to wipe her face on his shirt and continue to bawl her eyes out.

He pat her back with a sigh. It was going to be one of those days... but Solas would endure it, because the alternative would make living with her impossible, and it was not an option, however yearningly he sometimes daydreamed about it.

When her tears dried and she made use of their positions to start tickling him, Solas knew he was forgiven.

\---

 

On Sunday, Dorian's usual visit became twice as exhausting when his boyfriend tagged along.

Seeing the massive Qunari man in his shop sent Solas into apoplexy; the man's horns were almost scraping the ceiling, and this was when he was crouched over! How he had gotten through the front door, Solas didn't want to know.

"Hey," the Qunari rumbled with a grin, "How ya doing Ellana?"

The girl actually favored the huge Qunari man with a smile in reply.

"That is discrimination I tell you," Dorian grumbled, "I am twice as charming as Bull and I don't even get a nod in my direction,"

Neither Solas nor Ellana were stupid enough to fall for that pity trap.

Bull seated himself on the comically small chair Ellana used, whilst she hopped onto the counter, despite Solas insistence the counter was not for sitting on.

"What is it this time Dorian?" Solas demanded, hoping to be rid of them soon, with everything that had happened, he was eager to visit his friend again.

"How rude!" Dorian huffed as he ambled upstairs to make himself some coffee, "Honestly Solas, it's a wonder you have any customers considering your abysmal social skills,"

Solas followed him, nervously glancing at the Qunari left behind, but he was fairly certain Bull would keep Ellana out of trouble.

"Why is Bull here?" Solas queried suspiciously as Dorian busied himself shoveling sugar by the bowlful into his cup.

"He wanted to see Ellana of course," Dorian shrugged, "He intends to invite her to have a drink with the Chargers I think; 'Dalish' could use someone Dalish to talk to apparently,"

"And I'd have to go with to babysit her," Solas grumbled, remembering how fun the last time had been, "No, thank you,"

"Now, now," Dorian grinned, waving a spoon at him admonishingly, "You aren't her father, Solas; Ellana is a big girl, and she can do what she wants,"

Solas mentally added, 'If I was her father, I'd ground her for the rest of eternity and put her over my knee everytime she did anything stupid, which would be all the time, so it's a good thing I'm not,'

"You're her professor," Solas glared, "Aren't you supposed to not engage each other socially for reasons of integrity?"

"Honestly," Dorian shrugged, stirring his sickly sweet drink, "I don't really teach her. She never comes to any lectures, and her exam results are all perfect regardless of what we do; and besides, she does not consider me her teacher, so I think we're good,"

Dorian dawdled over his drink, chit chatting about this and that, and Solas grew even more suspicious considering the quiet coming from downstairs, an eventuality that Solas had learnt from personal experience to mean trouble. He ditched Dorian mid-rant about some colleague of his and their dreadful fashion sense, and headed downstairs despite Dorian's protests, where Iron Bull was explaining something to Ellana, who was nodding and listening attentively.

"-remember, if you're uncomfortable, it's always right to stop. You have any questions, you know who to call," the Qunari pat her shoulder companionably, "But I think you'll do just fine," he winked at the girl, who giggled in return.

Solas glanced between the pair suspiciously, but got nothing but blank, innocent looks in return.

"Really Solas," Dorian huffed as he caught up, "That was quite rude! I have no idea why I suffer your manners," the Tevene man sniffed and shoved a list at Solas, "I expect prompt delivery for this insult! Come along Bull, we're leaving this establishment!" 

Bull rolled his eye fondly as he hunched his way after Dorian's flamboyant exit, "Nice talking with you Ellana," he winked and closed the door behind him.

Solas narrowed his eyes at Ellana, "What were you two talking about?" He demanded as he set about to take care of Dorian's list.

"Dalish things," Ellana replied easily.

"Last I checked, Iron Bull is not Dalish," Solas retorted deadpan, spearing her with a hard stare that told her exactly how much he believed the crap she was feeding him.

"One of his friends is Dalish," Ellana explained with an inscrutable smile, "He was telling me about her, and passing on her advice about how to deal with the shem world. It was very helpful," she beamed at him, not a shred of deceit to be found. 

Solas typed in the requisition and considered how she could possibly lie that well, when usually all it took was a few prodding questions about, for example, why his washing machine was in pieces on the living room floor to get her to spill the beans.

Either he was missing something critical, or his initial assessment of her lying capabilities was fundamentally wrong.

Solas let it go, for now. After the thirty five minute drive to the hospice, during which he grilled her in vain about the conversation, he reluctantly concluded that whatever they had talked about had to be none of his concern, or he'd likely go mad with paranoia.

Solas was looking forward to the quiet, understanding company of Sophia. She would know how to smooth this weirdness over.

Sadly it was not meant to be.

"What do you mean intensive care?" Solas felt his whole body grow numb as the words of the nurse on reception duty washed over him.

"I'm sorry sir, but Madame Spirit is currently being operated for lung failure," The nurse gravely repeated, "It will take some time before we can say for sure that she will make a full recovery, but I assure you Mister Wolfe that she is receiving the best possible care,"

Solas felt himself begin to tremble, which the nurse noted with a friendly smile that didn't reach her eyes, "There is nothing to worry about Mister Wolfe," she attempted to reassure him, "The doctors are optimistic, and the forecast for the operation is very good; it's fairly common, and with some time and effort, she will be right as rain. Please be patient, we will inform you if anything changes,"

Solas found it hard to breathe, his world seemed to shrink all around him, and a sense of familiar helplessness suffocated him. The awful knowledge that he would have to wait it out, again, frustrated him enough to want to attack anyone and everything-

A small hand slipped into his, squeezing tight, interrupting his train of thought.

Ellana was smiling up at him, her eyes glittering with sympathy and understanding.

Solas felt his anxiety melt away like snow in the summer sun.

He collected his voice, not daring to break eye contact with Ellana and be drawn back into his fury, and demanded hoarsely, "How long will the procedure take?"

"A few more hours," the nurse informed him, "But seeing her is out of the question. She will be unconscious for quite some time, and we would like to keep risk of an infection to a minimum for the present,"

Solas nodded tersely in reply. Ellana ran her thumb over his knuckles and kept smiling, like his very own portable miniature Sun, chasing away storms of doubt and fear, making his suffering lesser just by being there.

"Let's go home," Solas murmured to Ellana under his breath, and the girl led him out the hospice by hand, offering to him something more precious than any currency in this world; understanding and friendship, when he had expected to face his sorrows and carry his burdens alone.

It had been a long time since he had experienced anything of the kind. Having someone to hold onto, who would offer you a hug when you needed it, or being able to seek comfort in the physical presence of someone else... these were luxuries Solas had not been aware he had had until now.

It was a heady revelation, one that numbed his better sense enough that back home, when Ellana pulled him down to lay his head in her lap instead of the other way around, her right hand fingers petting his head and her left laying on his heart, Solas did not resist and laid there on his sofa, eyes open and lost in a world with only Ellana to comfort him.

To his surprise, Solas found his worries and anxiety slipping away one by one, simply by listening to her soft breathing and concentrating on the feel of her fingers caress his head and ears.

Solas ventured to look at her face, and found a similar melancholy reflected back at him; he realised Ellana was worried for Sophia's condition as well, but she had put it aside in order to offer him comfort.

His earlier thoughts of being old enough to be her father seemed silly, when Ellana was dealing with this crisis better than he was.

"I've known for some time that she was deathly ill, but I had hoped..." Solas found himself confessing wretchedly, "I had hoped there was more time left,"

Ellana did not reply, because what was there to say? Nothing could stop the inevitable march of time, and as another elf, Ellana must be aware of the pain their kind experienced, living with the memories of their dead friends for a long time before their own bodies failed them.

For the first time in decades, Solas was relieved by their shared race, rather than simply being disappointed and disassociated from all elvenkind.

"I feel so tired," Solas whispered, feeling his years weigh upon his heart, and the sheer number of his mistakes only taxed it further.

"Rest, and lay down your burden with me," Ellana bade in return, "I am here hahren, you are not alone,"

He caught her warm, gentle stare, and with deliberate slowness, Solas hesitantly pressed his hand atop her left one.

"It has been a long time since..." He trailed off, searching for the right word, but gave up when the sensation of his heart being pressed between two unyielding forces became overwhelming. Solas breathed deep instead, "Thank you," he lamely finished, aware there was no word in any language that could adequately describe his feelings, and had to make do with a platitude.

Her responding smile and the slight tint of color on her cheeks was a balm on his wounds, and Solas allowed himself to relax and close his eyes, letting his guard down for the first time since he could remember whilst in company.

Solas allowed it to envelop him, and let himself be lulled into light, gentle dreams by the sound of her familiar inhales and exhales, and he drowsily imagined the feel of her soft lips being pressed on his forehead and the tickle of her dark overgrown hair on his nose before his consciousness faded away.

\---


	12. Kiss and tell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is your excessive fluff warning, please refrain from eating any overly sweet things before or during this chapter, because the overload of sugar might have unintended side-effects.
> 
> Remember how there has been absolutely no kissing at all until this point? Well here you have a chapter full of nothing but!  
> This is likely the closest you'll get to smut in this fic, so enjoy!
> 
> But beware, I put the angst tag in this fic for a reason; you have been warned... 
> 
> Ps. My chess observations are purely philosophical ponderings on the nature and roles of the pieces, I am not a player myself. Any perceived insight is accidental, and possibly the result of too many sleepless nights.  
> Pps. Thom Rainier never had a reason to assume another man's identity in this storyline. Rainier and Josephine are suffering from a chronic case of 'le splendeur du coeurs perdus'.

Ellana had been acting peculiar all morning, and it struck Solas as being even more disconcertingly odd than her usual standard, so it was worrisome.

Solas was not aware that he had done anything wrong; they had not been fighting yesterday or the day before that, and Solas was fairly certain he had not said anything more upsetting than, 'I cannot eat anymore Ellana, delicious as it is, without bursting at the seams,'.

When Solas had come back upstairs from his morning necessities, he found her weeping in his kitchenette. This had alarmed him enough that he had tried to find out why she was crying, but Ellana had not answered, at least not in any language he had understood. Ellana had avoided his gaze, and having finished preparing their breakfast loaf, she chucked it on the tiny dining table before she fled upstairs and did not come out until she was composed, which was an hour later. 

Solas had had to eat his breakfast alone, after his calls after her were not returned, and the food he had set aside for her benefit had not been eaten, even when she had finally come down.

This behaviour persisted throughout the day, without any warnings or clues to what had set her off, or how to stop it. Ellana would start sniffling, Solas would take notice, he'd ask what was wrong and she'd flee to his room and not come out, no matter how hard he hammered on his bedroom door or how pleading his entreaties to her were.

After the third time in the last five hours, Solas gave up on trying to convince her, and trudged back downstairs to the store; if she needed to let it out of her system, he would let her get on with it. He had work to do, and worrying about it or listening to her cry might set him off as well. It had been two weeks since Sophia took ill, and his inquiries had all born no fruit but frustration; he was in no mood to comfort Ellana's strange whims.

Solas busied himself with chores to avoid thinking about it. Numbing his mind with the routine of repeated actions emptied his frustrations and allowed him to reach for peace of mind.

He was going through his recycling bound papers and documents for the week, in case he had accidentally slipped in something critically important, when he noted a strange letter he had never laid eyes on before. 

At first, Solas had no idea what he was looking at. The oddly-shaped envelope was made from unusually thick paper that smelt of woodsmoke, and the address was badly written in a barely legible hand that had crossed over their own attempts several times, without erasing their mistakes. Then there were the stamps, some of which looked to be over seventy years old, plastered all over the top half of the envelope.

He wondered if the postmaster had had it delivered out of pity, because someone had really wanted to send this letter desperately.

But what truly astonished him was that the letter was addressed to Ellana.

It wasn't common knowledge that Ellana was living with him. Although the watermark on the stamp was barely legible, but from what he could make out, it was possibly from as far as Wycome in the Free Marches, which made absolutely no sense.

The envelope had been ripped open roughly, indicating Ellana had already read it, and Solas slipped out a sheet of yellowed paper almost as old as the postmarks, which, judging by the smudges and remains of rubbed out sentences, had been reused many times in the past.

The page was filled with writing in the same flowing and illegible scriptive Elvish Ellana used, and understanding flowed into Solas at last.

It was from her Clan. 

Solas had taught himself to read Ellana's handwriting to an extent, and could guess at the meaning behind her Elvish writing since it was not as divergent from the original as her spoken Elvish was, but this handwriting was even worse than Ellana's, and that was saying something; Solas would never have believed it, but Ellana's writing was a thousand times more refined and legible than the scrawl presented in the letter.

Solas could not make heads or tails of it. A word here and there, but out of context, and likely because of the dialect, he could glean no understanding from it.

But he could guess at the contents, going by Ellana's behaviour, along with the state and presence of the crumpled up letter in his trash.

Solas felt at a loss; he had helped her send word, but he had not expected them to send a reply anytime soon, if they ever would considering the cost of sending the letter, nevermind sending one that had upset Ellana so badly she began tearing up randomly.

Solas was in a delicate and awkward position; on one hand he had caused this by suggesting and enabling Ellana to make contact with her Clan, on the other, he was not responsible for how her kin had received the letter, nor their reaction to it. 

Solas felt stumped; should he confront her, demanding to know why she was so upset and if he had played some role in causing the reaction, or stay silent and not add to her pain by forcing her to reiterate whatever hurtful words they had written her?

Ellana's constant crying was getting on his nerves to tell the truth, because it hit awkward notes in his already overburdened guilty conscience. But starting a fight over a mess he may have helped cause was not something Solas wanted, and he was not just saying it because he didn't want to sleep on the sofa again; his throat was still sore and he kept sneezing at inopportune moments from the unfortunate results of last week's row.

Solas brooded over his options, unable to find a solution to his dilemma, but as the day drew to a close, and Ellana was still weeping in his room from the last bout of hysterics, he was out of time.

Solas decided a peace offering might help smooth the way to reconciliation (if the situation called for one anyway), and food had always been well received when he had attempted to bribe her to come live with him. Unfortunately, Ellana obviously had no appetite, and from past experience, Solas knew she'd not eat anything at this point, much less leftovers, especially if he prepared them for her.

Solas made do with brewing her a warm beverage from his secret stash of top quality dark chocolate, which was not sweet, and which she seemed to like (or at least not actively dislike) when he occasionally made desserts for them. He put it in the bright pink tea mug, still miraculously intact despite the excessive use she had put it through for the past decade most like, which Ellana had brought up from her aravel, and reluctantly cut some extra bits of chocolate to go with it, because at this point, he was desperate.

Solas carefully carried the small tray with his offerings up the stairs to the attic, and knocked on the door.

"Ellana, I made you some hot chocolate," Solas called as gently as he could, "May I come in?"

After a moment of thoughtful silence, the key turned in the lock. Solas exhaled in relief and carefully nudged the door open so he could slip inside.

Ellana was laying face down on his bed, listless and unresponsive; she had apparently cried herself out.

Lacking a nightstand, Solas instead placed the tray on his desk, and ferried the mug to her, crouching beside his bed and waited for her reaction.

What on Thedas merited such a show, Solas pondered, using his free hand to smooth down some of her dishevelled hair. Just what had those people written to her?

She crawled closer until she hit the edge of the bed, and mewled helplessly, flopping her arms weakly in a silent plea for assistance.

Solas sighed, and seeing no other option, he placed the drink beside his bed, picking up Ellana's small frame and placing her in her favorite spot, namely his lap, and got as comfortable as he could, leaning against the headboard with Ellana sprawled across his legs. Ellana leaned on his chest with a sigh of her own, and Solas carefully lifted the mug off the floor and held it out to her.

Ellana miraculously had regained enough arm strength to hold the cup without dropping it. Solas kept his mouth shut until the drink had been sipped away; he was not keen on having to clean chocolate stains from his linens, or have hot liquid poured on him. Instead he snaked his arms around her waist, and waited.

Solas put the mug away once she nudged his arm with it to signify she was finished, and angled her chin to look at her red-veined eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

"I saw the letter," he decided to not beat around the bush, "I'm sorry it didn't work out," he offered lamely, aware he was likely just pouring salt into her wounds, but he was feeling pretty confident since he still had the sweets to bribe her with.

Ellana buried her face in his shoulder instead of answering, and began playing with the buttons of his shirt; Solas had to slap away her fingers a few times when she started opening them.

She grumbled something unhappily in her modern Elvish dialect.

"You don't need to tell me," Solas attempted to console her, "But I'm here for you, if you ever feel like talking about it," he shifted his grip nervously, distinctly awkward now, but Solas would never force her to talk about such a painful subject, if she didn't want to or wasn't ready to talk about it. If this was all the consolation he could offer, it was better he try than do nothing at all.

Ellana didn't respond, but her shoulders definitely shuddered, and he thought he felt distinct dampness begin to infect his shirt.

Solas was panicking; he had no idea how you handled inexplicably weeping girls, crying over possibly traumatising messages from home. He could handle the occasional tantrum, and usually the crying fits handled themselves without his involvement, but the jealousy fiasco not two weeks ago had not prepared him to deal with this amount of tears, and his current situation sort of placed an expectation he do something about it. 

Solas tried to desperately remember how someone reacted to and dealt with situations like this in a fashion that did not add fuel to the flames, but the only thing he could come up with was how his sister had, once upon a time, kissed his sorrows away when he had been crying about something trivial, and how it had always made him feel better.

But this was hardly the same thing, and somehow Solas doubted Ellana wanted a grown man of no relation to her to start kissing her tears away in any sort of situation, nevermind whilst in said man's bed and in his lap!

But as the bawling intensified, and after almost ten minutes of listening to her gag and gasp for lack of breath and cry with ugly, heartwrenching sobs, Solas broke.

Feeling self-conscious, he pressed the first kiss, little more than a peck, chastely on the top of her head. When this did not help, he tilted her chin to kiss her soggy cheek.

Her tears ground to a sudden halt, and Ellana jolted her head up to stare at him, eyes wide as saucers, and a timid smile grew as she blushed, gracing the lips she was biting to keep quiet.

Put on the spot like that, Solas' first gut reaction to escape took over and he dropped her like a stone, in favor of picking up the dirty mug and re-arranging the chocolates on the tray. He cleared his stuffy throat to regain composure.

"Yes, well, I made you some sweets," He shoved the tray at her, refusing to look her in the eye, "I'm going to clean up. It's late. We should probably go to bed," he was painfully aware of the thousand kilowatt stare beamed at his back as he made his escape into the kitchen.

When he returned, the tray was empty and Ellana was already lying in bed, her eyes gleaming in the dark with a distinctively predatory sheen as she watched him undress. If she were a cat, her tail would be swishing this way and that; Solas could just picture it, in vivid detail. A black cat with emerald eyes and devilishly sharp claws hidden underneath a meek and innocently sweet appearance. As any cat owner would tell you; it was the cat, who owned you, not the other way around.

Solas seriously contemplated running. Sleeping on the sofa did not seem to be a bad trade for avoiding her and the consequences of his well-meaning breach of intimacy.

As it was he really regretted allowing Ellana to put away the bedroll. It would allow him to sleep in relative comfort, away from her piercing stare, her grabby hands and who knew what she planned to punish him with for his conduct.

Solas took his time to smooth the creases on his winter pajamas and right his cuffs before he shuffled over to his side of the small bed, and climbed into the pre-warmed blankets.

It took Ellana two seconds to climb on top of him, fluttering her eyelashes at him and begin nuzzling his cheeks with her own. She lay on top of his chest expectantly, two inches away from his face for two long, awkward minutes, during which Solas deeply regretted his sympathetic response and avoided her eye, which was quite the feat considering the proximity of said eyes.

Then she started to pout. And after a minute of that, she began to tear up again.

"But you were happy just now!" Solas exclaimed in frustration.

Her lower lip wobbled very convincingly, and she sniffled dramatically.

"You're going to start crying again, aren't you?" Solas growled.

Her eyes were watering, and a keening whine was cultivating in her throat.

"Just because I had a momentary lapse in sanity and gave you one kiss on the cheek, does not mean-" Solas tried to explain, but Ellana had started crying, very vocally, burying her face in his neck. She even began to beat his chest.

"Of course Solas, what did you expect?" He grumbled to himself, "Give her a pinkie, she'll take the hand, and no refunds are possible,"

Letting out a groan of resignation, he pressed an unwilling kiss on her temple. Miraculously the waterworks shut off that instant, and she resumed her expecting position.

"I really wonder why I keep you sometimes," Solas informed her gruffly, pressing one kiss on her pleased cheek, "No, that's all you're getting!" He warned her, earning a disagreeing huff from her, "No more. If you start crying, I'm sleeping on the sofa. Now please settle down, and let me sleep," he continued resolutely.

Ellana rolled her eyes, then kissed his cheek in return before she plopped onto his side, burrowing her way into his torso and fell asleep like a baby.

Solas was glad the night veiled his humiliating blush, and he hoped it would get better before he had a heart attack from embarrassment, because he really doubted Ellana would let this one go so easily.

He was proven right when Ellana began demanding a good morning kiss, in addition to the good night kiss, and she was very adamant she get what she wanted, to the point she locked him inside his own room for an hour in the morning, until he promised her the peck on her cheek and delivered it.

Solas hoped that if he continued to say it was for the good of co-existence, and to prevent more tantrums and spontaneous crying, and that it was merely a simple, chaste show of comfort and a relatively small price to pay for continued sanity, he might someday convince himself it was true.

\---

 

"No," Solas intoned dully, for the fifth time today.

"But it hurts," She wobbled her lower lip and hefted her band-aid covered index finger as proof.

"One is all you get," Solas vehemently drew the line, again.

"It'd heal faster," She draped herself against his back and whined.

"It'll heal on its own," Solas deadpanned.

"It might not heal at all, with you acting so cruelly," she accused him.

"You can cry all you want, that's all you're getting, and I am being extremely generous as it is," Solas growled, "I can sleep on the sofa," he bravely declared, his untimely sneeze however, did not lend much to the image of a lonely, immovable mountain he was trying to portray.

"Please, hahren?" She dangled the offending appendage in front of his mouth.

"You are being deliberately ridiculous," Solas declared, "In fact, I do not much like this whole stupid-"

Their bickering was interrupted when the store bell rang, and an imposing human man, made of what appeared to be little more than muscle and a massive beard, stepped in. He was carrying, of all things, a dainty wicker basket full of fruit.

"Solas, my friend!" The bear-like man grinned amicably, setting the basket down and took hold of his outstreched extremity, stuck in mid-admonishment, "Good to see you!" His handshake was, as always, an excruciatingly tight grip.

"Sir Rainier," Solas blinked away his surprise, shaking his hand back, "What an unexpected surprise,"

"I am running errands for Lady Josephine," the grizzly man grinned toothily, "You know how busy she gets with the first social engagements of the year. She sent you some leftovers from her fete," he nodded towards the mountain of rare fruits heaped into the basket so it was teetering on exploding from too much food stuffed into too little space

Solas grinned back weakly, acutely aware Ellana still had her arms wrapped around his neck and was peeking at their guest from behind his head, stuck to his back like a tick.

"Oh," Rainier noticed the wary green eyed and unblinking stare, "I was not aware you had company, my apologies-"

Solas sighed, "This is Ellana; she lives here," he stated curtly, "Don't mind her, she's... shy around strangers,"

"Does she now?" Rainier raised his eyebrows, but broke into a pleased grin, "How do you do, my lady?" He bowed politely, ever the gentleman, "Thom Rainier, at your service,"

Ellana hid back behind his head, burying her face in his shoulders.

"Is she a... relative of yours Solas?" Rainier inquired, his interest had been piqued, "I was not aware you had any family-"

"No," Solas cut him off switftly, "Ellana is... a friend. Who is staying with me, for the winter," he tried to explain, only digging himself deeper it seemed; Solas grimaced, his speech just heightened his awareness of how this must look to an outsider, (and this wasn't even mentioning the sharing of the bed. That would be so incriminating a statement, he might as well lock himself up and throw away the key), especially an outsider like Thom, who had the pleasure of knowing him better than the average acquaintance.

Ellana's hands stiffened around his neck. This day just kept getting better, anymore of this and he'd really be sleeping on the sofa for the rest of the week.

"Oh," Rainier winked at the girl behind his shoulder, "I see. A 'friend'. Good on you Solas," he slapped Solas' shoulder, "Good on you!" He grinned wider, truly pleased by this development.

"I know you don't need the meetings anymore," Rainier continued, heedless to Solas' wordless pleas to shut up, "But anytime you feel like you need to have a chat, you know where to find us,"

"Thank you," Solas smiled back, entirely faking it, wishing the topic to end.

"I always thought you were one of the best adjusted men I've ever had the pleasure of working with," Rainier rolled over his wishes with a smile, "Not many people like us have any sort of willpower, inclination, or chances to engage in this kind of relationship after what we've been through; I am truly happy for you Solas," Rainier sincerely told him, and the sentiment was appreciated; Thom always meant well, no matter how he misread the situation and jumped to conclusions.

But then, having a female elf, not related to him in any way, hang onto Solas' shoulders and press against his back intimately would cause tongues to wag even if they did not know the particulars, nevermind understanding perfectly well, like Rainier did, how unlikely such an event ever coming to pass was in Solas' life.

Solas felt terrible for wanting the man gone to spare himself further embarrassment; Thom was a good man, one who had helped Solas out selflessly when he was at his worst, and did not deserve this sort of disparagement, even in thought. He had long ago earned Solas' respect, and Solas should not be taking out his frustrations on him.

The human picked at his massive beard contemplatively, "I don't presume to know what is really going on, but I don't think I need to remind you that there is no shame in trying to be happy. You don't owe anyone to stay miserable your whole life, Solas," 

"Don't let it slip by," Rainier sighed with the pain of personal experience, "Some things are worth fighting for, if only you realise there is a fight you can win in time,"

Solas nodded tersely. He knew what tragedy Rainier was talking about. It was written in the innocent basket of fruit he delivered in someone else's stead, and Solas wondered if Rainier would ever follow his own advice.

"Ah, listen to me going on," the large man barked and slapped Solas on the shoulder companionably, "Have a nice day my friend. I'll try to pop by sometime soon; its been too long since I've had the chance to lose to you at Diamondback,"

Thom let himself out, the last of Solas' small circle of acquaintances to drop by. Hopefully it would be the last social visit for a while; although he wouldn't put it past Sera to pull more pranks before she got bored of beating on a dead horse.

Seeing his old friend again forced a new light onto his situation; Rainier was right. Solas was wasting time by griping constantly about his situation, rather than doing anything about it one way or the other. 

Solas should be enjoying the company of someone kind and affectionate while it lasted, not nitpicking about the what ifs; she was from a different culture, all alone in a big city, and he should not be discouraging her already feeble efforts at being sociable. 

A girl her age should not be spending her days at his dusty, boring old shop; she should be out there, with other people her age, mingling, and Solas should be helping her by trying to find her a place of her own, instead of just trying to bear the status quo. 

But before he could tackle that problem, he had some ruffled feathers to smooth over. He'd look into the matter tomorrow, it was almost closing time and Solas still had requisitions to file before he could start dinner, nevermind seriously consider his actions to solve Ellana's housing problem.

Solas picked the offensive bandaged digit and pecked it.

The tension in Ellana melted away, and he could feel her smile press into the back of his neck.  
Solas huffed, squeezing her hand before letting go.

Ellana returned it around his neck and remained in her position, practically purring as she nuzzled his shoulders, and since Solas could not tell her off, he got as comfortable as he could before her arms tired and she wandered off to do something else.

\---

 

Solas' renewed vigor of attempting to find Ellana a new position was all too soon derailed by an increase in personal discomfort levels.

Solas was getting worried. The innocent chaste kissing was getting out of hand; why he had given in to her demands for more physical affection was beyond him. It felt like the moments she was not touching him now figured in the rapidly decreasing minority, but the thing that truly alarmed Solas was that he was getting accustomed to it with a frightening quickness.

Ellana seemed to be determined to raise the number of kisses allowed each day by at least one, and she was sadly succeeding, but not by means of fair play; extortion, crocodile tears, disrespecting his personal space, once she even bribed him with frilly cakes!

To avoid nasty disagreements and pointless arguments, Solas was beginning to turn his cheek towards her the second he percieved she was rising to her tiptoes, and had taken the damn cakes without a fight or a word of complaint, rewarding her with a pair of kisses on each cheek.

Solas had hoped that by indulging her whims, because apparently the Dalish were neither body shy nor reserved in showing affection, he would regain some normality and space when she got bored, but every damn one he gave away only seemed to encourage her further!

So far Solas had succeeded in keeping the kisses chaste, but he could not deny that the more casual such intimacy became, the harder it was to draw clear cut definitions between acceptable and improper.

Which to be honest was more his fault than hers. He was the older one, he was supposed to be the mature adult who kept things civil and proper, not the old fool who had not been touched for so long he had forgotten how such small, meaningless affections could make him smile, and made it all the harder to deny her.

It wasn't her fault Solas considered her attractive, nor was it her fault that her innocent affection made his less gentlemanly senses awaken from their long enforced slumber. He wasn't even going to mention how much his subconscious was enjoying tormenting and taunting him every night about his conflicted feelings for her.

And there was no Sophia he could confide in and seek advice from. His patience was stretched to breaking point after two weeks of escalating affection where it seemed his only options were for Ellana to move out, Solas learnt to control his feelings and shut her out, or let go of the last defenses around his heart and let the inevitable occur.

When the point of no return was crossed, it was so unremarkable it completely slipped past the desperate last stand Solas had prepared against it.

Solas was tapping in a requisition form, and Ellana brought him a snack considerately.

Solas expected she wanted payment and meant to give her a distant peck on the cheek; he was more focused on his work than the casual touches he had successfully weathered for the past two weeks, thus he didn't even react when she leaned in first and pecked him on the lips instead, so casually he didn't even bat an eyelash.

Solas began munching on the sandwich, and about half-way through he noted there was a foreign taste on his lips; after some consideration, he recognised it as the same sticky lip balm Ellana favored, received as a Wintersend gift from Sera of all people. Solas had become intimately annoyed with it because it left visible pink smudges on his cheeks, and which Dorian had mercilessly pointed out and mortified Solas to the point he had wanted the earth to swallow him up, so he'd never have to see Dorian's gleefully smug grin directed at him ever again.

Solas almost dropped the sandwich when he recalled just how it had gotten to his lips, and he inhaled in some of his snack in shock, erupting into a stream of coughs.

When Solas had regained his breath, he marched upstairs, determined to give her a piece of his mind, but the second Ellana turned to look at him from the sofa, big eyes wide and a bright smile lingering on her lips, he found his words drain away along with his conviction.

Did Solas really want to start another fight when he wasn't sure what had really happened because he wasn't paying attention? He might have accidentally smeared some of her lip balm from his cheek to his lips when he rubbed his chin.

The constraining tightness around his heart did not make speaking out any easier. Solas smiled weakly back, and grabbed a glass of water instead of berating her, before heading back down to his work, calling himself a coward all the while.

After that there were no clear cut violations. Yes, her kisses were skirting the edges of his mouth now and again when Ellana missed his cheek because Solas had moved suddenly the wrong way, but he couldn't possibly complain about those, not without upsetting Ellana further. She got seven kisses under his radar by that little trick before he grew suspicious enough to stand absolutely still and concluded it wasn't his fault, but her intention.

Solas was irritated and meant to call her out on it, but got completely sidetracked when she began slipping kisses on his neck instead, a definite violation he pointed out to her. Ellana feigned repentance convincingly enough that Solas completely overlooked the fact she might have staged the incident to draw his attention away from her earlier violations.

And it worked. For two stupid days Ellana snuck in more and more illegal mouth on mouth contact, and hid it behind the uproar caused by the less chaste ones she used as a smokescreen, before Solas caught onto what she was doing.

Solas had stewed for the rest of the whole day and gave her the cold shoulder for it, refusing to play her games anymore. Because that's all it was, a game, playing with his feelings and his dignity, just for a laugh at the lonely old man stupid enough to fall for it.

Keeping up his cold front whilst sleeping in the same bed proved to be somewhat problematic, but Solas made do with turning his back on her, and shoving off any and all contact. He had not taken into account that Ellana rose earlier than he did, and that he was vulnerable whilst asleep. 

He woke up with Ellana laying patiently on top of his chest, a lazy smile on her lips as she waited him to realise his position.

The second he opened his mouth to tell her off, she covered it with a real kiss. It was not forced, or very experienced, little better than a long smooch on his lips, but she followed it up with two more of the same, holding onto his face with her right hand, running her thumb along his ear.

He should have pushed her off after the first kiss, but he was frozen in place like a statue because no one touched another elf's ear like that on purpose, and especially not whilst kissing said someone without very serious intent behind it.

She nuzzled his nose with her own and planted a fourth kiss on his lips, murmuring, "Good morning hahren,"

One last kiss and she sighed fondly, caressing his face, "I'll see if our breakfast is done," then she clambered off him and left like the whole incident was the most ordinary thing in the world, and not a world-ender.

Solas hid his face in his pillows with a moan, and knew that he was doomed, because he couldn't believe he had been stupid enough to think it was a game, when it had clearly been a trap, one he had fallen for hook, line, and sinker.

\---

 

Solas moved like a clockwork robot throughout the day, avoiding Ellana's eye but unable to stop her from changing every chaste kiss into a liplock, and Solas could feel his world begin to crumble around him with every touch. 

He did not return one kiss, it was his final line of defense, and if he crossed it, nothing would stop the relationship from devolving into depths best left untapped.

Solas was desperate for any distraction, any relief, anybody who could save him from the terrible understanding leeching into his body with every touch, that she wanted him to kiss him back, and that his resistance was both lacking and faltering in the face of temptation.

Ellana lingered after every kiss, her eyes expectant, just like that night two weeks ago, her smile welcoming, her eyes shining bright with an innocent obtuseness as she relentlessly boxed him into a corner where he would have to make a choice, for or against, one he could not escape or deny anymore. 

She was too clever and too intelligent for his sanity. Ellana was playing him like a lute, an instrument she had spent months teaching herself how it functioned, taking it apart piece by piece until she knew it inside out, and now could direct him any way she chose.

But even in her stubborn determination, she was kind and considerate enough to take into account that this was not easy for him; she did not force him, she left the final choice to him. It would be his choice if he kissed her back, and a part of him wanted to see how long she would persist before the kisses stopped altogether. Long enough for him to crack first most likely.

And he was cracking. He had been cracking for a long time now, this was just the final blow, delivered slowly by degrees; Solas was the lobster in the slowly simmering pot, unaware as it was cooked alive. The shade of his face also resembled a cooked lobster; the color in his cheeks was becoming a persisting occurrence.

When the phone rang later that day, Solas had never been happier at the prospect of listening to Dorian blather about something trivial, anything to keep his mind off the decision resting upon his shoulders.

But it was not Dorian.

"Good news Mr Wolfe!" A cheery woman congratulated him, "Madame Spirit has been cleared of quarantine today, and you may visit her by special leave tomorrow if it pleases you,"

Solas exhaled deeply, a relieved smile forcing his way upon his expression as he leaned on the counter, "I'll be there,"

"Report to the reception desk tomorrow and a nurse will escort you to her. Good evening, Mr Wolfe," the nurse bade him and the line went dead.

Solas decided he would put off making a decision and live with the unbearable situation for just one more day.

Sophia would know what to do to resolve this issue peacefully, he was sure of it.

\---

 

Ellana had let him go alone, and Solas was too distraught to consider the mayhem she might cause while he was away.

Solas felt jumpy and nervous when he was freed from her clutches to visit the hospice. He kept expecting when next she would push his limits, even when she was not around.

Solas forced himself to push aside all his thoughts and feelings; Sophia was more important for today.

Solas had no idea in what condition he would find her, but the shattering hopes in his chest when he was led into a ward told him that he had unknowingly expected to find her as hale as he had become accustomed to.

Sophia was not hale. She was lying in her bed, her skin was almost grey in color, and though her smile was warm, there was not much left in her withering body to accomodate it.

"I am sorry to have troubled you old friend," Sophia rasped, fighting her ailing body for control; she was obviously in pain, and it broke Solas' heart to see her like this.

"Sophia," Solas placed a hand gently atop hers, "I am just relieved to see you again,"

Sophia took a shuddering breath, "And I you. I am not so eager to give up just yet, no matter what these doctors say," a teasing grin flitted across her face, reminding him that her spirit was as strong as ever, "At one point in my life, the thought I would die in bed terrified me. But now," the old woman sighed, "Now, I think, when the time comes, it will be a relief,"

Solas clenched his jaws, willing himself to stay focused.

"It will be soon," Sophia warned him with a gentle smile, "But not yet. We still have some time to finish our last game, although, you will need to move the pieces for me. I am afraid I have lost the strength to move them myself,"

"Of course," Solas whispered, willing his tears not to fall.

"I see Ellana is not with you today," Sophia commented while he set up the board with faltering hands, and at the mention of her name the White Queen slipped his grasp and it clattered to the floor audibly in the silence following the statement.

"I thought so," The woman wheezed a laugh, "Oh, old friend, you are ridiculously easy to read,"  
Solas retreived the piece from under Sophia's bed, fighting down his flush.

"Not that I would wish her to be exposed to my current state," Sophia smiled, "It is rather sobering. But I would like to see you both happy and together before I go,"

"I don't know what you mean," Solas felt his hands begin to shake, tightening into a fist around the White Queen as he retook his seat.

"She has made her move my friend," Sophia guessed all too correctly, "In chess terms, you have been cornered. Now you must either accept your fate, or try outmaneuver it,"

Solas clamped his hands together and forced a smile, "I am-"

"There is nothing to be afraid of my dear friend," Sophia chastised him, the smile falling off her face, "Mutual attraction realised is not the end, but the beginning. Commitment is no prison for your heart unless you make it into one. Her hands are are not shackles that bind your destiny and take away your freedom. She is not the one holding you back, my friend; you are,"

She spoke uncomfortable truths that rubbed against his gathering fears. Solas had no voice to defend himself against her words.

"Do not let it slip you by simply because of fear," Sophia urged him with motherly kindness, "What you hold in your hand is the most vulnerable yet most powerful piece in the game. It will destroy you, but it can save you as well. But it is fragile, and dependent on the strength of its pair, who moves slowly and never hastily, but which if lost, the game is over before it has begun,"

Solas opened his fist, staring at the innocent figure of the White Queen, mulling over Sophia's words in silence.

"They are named the King and Queen for a reason my friend," Sophia huffed with amusement, her eyes drawn to the chess piece sitting in his hand innocently, "But it is, as it always has been, your choice," she coaxed him, "You have always played masterfully well my friend, it would be a shame that you wasted that potential by ignoring your strongest ally in real life, as you rarely do in game,"

"Life is hardly a chess game, Sophia," Solas reminded her hoarsely.

"No, but your understanding of chess is perhaps superior to your understanding of how feelings work, my friend," Sophia needled him, "The metaphor might help you gain insight into your problems, where words might fail you otherwise,"

Solas huffed a snort; it was so like Sophia to find a metaphor in anything.

The old woman chuckled self-deprecatively, grinning back in amusement, and the weight of the moment lightened.

"I long feared that when I left this world, my only regret would be to leave you alone here, with no one to heal the wounds my death would add to your soul," Sophia confessed, breaking the silence, "And I admit, I hoped this day would come almost a year ago, when you first told me of your 'stray'," 

Had it truly been so long? Or rather, how long had Ellana...? How long had he been suppressing his feelings for her, and ignoring how they had been affecting his judgment?

"No one has captured and held your attention like she did, in all the years I have known you," Sophia continued, echoing his line of thought uncomfortably, "Hers was the only recurring character that held the potential to be something more to you than an obligation or a mere acquaintance,"

Solas felt older by the admission; he had not held anyone close to his heart for a very long time. He had not wanted to expose himself to the dangers of attachment, but Ellana had slipped past his guard regardless of his wishes or expectations.

"You did not realise it," Sophia accused him justly, "You have always been too beholden to your past in that way, clinging to it so tightly there was no room in the present for anything else,"

Solas avoided Sophia's piercing accusation, his fingers closing around the Queen painfully.

"Indeed, I considered it a wishful fancy," Sophia stated bluntly, "I have always been too much of a realist to expect people to change in so short a time nor so completely, and you in particular had resisted any and all change for a good two decades. I knew there was no hope for growth in you, unless you wanted there to be growth, and you had long ago shut the door to that path,"

The statement hung heavily over their heads, a truth Solas could not escape.

"She did the impossible my friend," Sophia whispered in wonder, breaking the somber mood, "Something I would never have believed. She became the reason that made you change yourself. Whether you acknowledge it or not, you are moving on, and she is the reason why,"

Was he truly moving on? Solas could not tell, but he acknowledged that since Ellana had come into his life he had redrawn his borders several times, made many stinging compromises, all for her benefit alone, and gained something closer to true companionship he had ever expected to experience in exchange.

"She is a special girl," Sophia smiled fondly, "So young, vibrant in spirit, quick in mind, with a loyalty to match... yes, I confess I hoped very much you two would continue on life's grueling journey together,"

A figure of Ellana flashed in his mind, and all the silly things he associated with her, a memory of yesterday morning chief in making his breath catch in his chest and a blush climb into his cheeks.

"What are you saying Sophia?" Solas whispered, still holding the chess piece in his trembling hand.

"I think you know already," the old woman smiled, "It's time to make a choice, my friend,"

Solas glanced at the half-ready board, set to their last configuration; only the Queen remained in his hand.

"Do you want to continue playing this game?" Sophia grinned, "Or do you want to start another?"

Solas hand hovered over the board, weighing his every choice against the other, allowing himself to consider, for the first time, the what ifs and the hopes that had been festering in his heart for a long time now, applying his skill of thinking dozens of moves ahead in his life, as he did in-game.

"Choose carefully, for there is no going back," Sophia bade him, "But you must choose now. Which is it? Yes, or no?"

Solas took a deep steadying breath, and made a choice.

Sophia's tired eyes twinkled and she laughed fondly.

"You have quite the flair for the dramatic, my friend," Sophia smiled, "Now... I believe it is your turn,"

\---

 

Solas went over and over his carefully prepared speeches, which he would present to Ellana when he got back, and spent the agonizingly slow drive home to ensure they would be perfect and water-tight enough she could not wiggle her way out of the situation or pierce his arguments by her illogical actions.

But when Solas finally found himself in front of his backdoor, he hesitated on the door step, his palms sweating from nerves, and the shortness of breath from the nervous tension did no favors for his already rapidly beating heart.

Solas felt doubt seep into his arguments; was this truly the right thing to do? There were so many ways for this situation to get out of hand, there was no telling how Ellana would react, and Solas was unsure if his reasoning was not fundamentally flawed in some way that would cause him to regret this someday soon.

Solas forced himself inside, mechanically going through the motions of taking off his winter clothes, washing his hands in the small bathroom, gathering his nerves as best he could for the showdown.

His resolve crumbled not two steps out of the bathroom; after half an hour of useless dithering and pacing along the corridor, Solas growled, and to relieve his frustration, he slammed his head against the wall loud enough that Ellana called out, "Hahren, is that you?"

Cursing himself, he replied in a shaky voice, "I'm back,"

He heard her descend the staircase to meet him in the corridor, her expression worried but fighting to keep a welcoming smile on her face, "How was she? Will she be alright?"

That was it, the trigger that destroyed his last hope for sanity and a rational conversation.

It was a strange feeling, the destruction of his last line of defense, a kind of floaty freedom spreading through him as he took a breath, looked at her, and admitted aloud a truth he had known for a long time, in a voice that sounded more like choking sob rather than the relieved sigh it should have been.

"You are so beautiful," Solas said, and watched a blush spread throughout her cheeks and how she bashfully attempted to hide her face from him, but her bangs had long since outgrown her and the movement only highlighted the beet red color that her face gained.

Solas reached for her waist and tugged her close, unable to stop the following embrace as he bore down and kissed her passionately, more passionately perhaps than the situation merited, but in the moment, he did not care.

Afterwards when both were forced to stop for air, and each floundered in the aftershock, Solas took in her stunned face, and he regretted he had probably jumped the gun by using his tongue in the kiss.

Her left hand had been forced into an awkward angle, and Solas chastised himself for not being more careful and taking it into account before he charged in.

"I think," Solas tried to even his heavy breathing, "We should probably talk this through,"

Ellana's eyes flashed dangerously, and before he could gather a suitable argument, she had pulled him into a second heated kiss.

Solas felt dazed and flustered afterwards, and concluded Ellana was a very fast learner.

"Or, apparently not," Solas mumbled as Ellana pulled him closer with a giggle, until her back was against the wall, and Solas was dragged into a third session that began to border on the indecent.

"Ellana," Solas held her hands still to prevent any further obstruction attempts, "Listen to me. This is a very bad idea, and we-" her leg was apparently not listening to him, judging by the way it was sliding against his thigh, "It's too soon for this kind of thing!" Solas added hastily, pushing down the offending leg, forced to let to of her left hand, considering it the lesser of two evils.

Ellana pouted, but Solas interrupted her before the waterworks started, "New ground rule, anything more intimate than a cheek kiss is absolutely forbidden on store level, in front of customers, and most definitely in front of-of our friends," he slapped away the leg again, and her left arm snaked around his hips instead.

"Furthermore," Solas shook his finger in her face, "No more crocodile tears Ellana. I'm already letting you get away with murder, but emotional manipulation is very cruel and hurtful, and I hope you respect that,"

"So, hahren-" She frowned as she considered the new terms.

"Solas," He interjected, "If we're seriously going there, then I insist you use my name,"

She hummed with pleasure, looking up at him through her eyelashes, "Solas," she tasted the name on her lips, and Solas thought himself naive for believing he could not blush any more, "You didn't say anything about the upper levels," she pointed out innocently.

"You're right," Solas returned with a small smile, his heart beating rapidly in his chest, "I didn't,"

"Interesting," Ellana purred.

"Do we have a deal?" Solas murmured.

"And what would I get out of it?" She smiled cheekily.

"A few kisses, perhaps," Solas nonchalantly added.

"Just kisses?" Her tone was accusing.

"I think anything more at this point would be premature," Solas pointed out nervously, aware she was glaring at him.

"I was hoping for a bit more for such a restriction," She bargained with him.

"I cannot promise you more," Solas sighed, "I just-" he fumbled for the words, needing space to think, which he wasn't getting with her body pressed to his.

Ellana pressed a finger to his lips to shush him, "If it makes you that uncomfortable, I can wait. I've waited this long, I'll just consider it an investment,"

"Waited?" Solas frowned, "What do you-"

She interrupted him with a teasing kiss, one that really made his toes twist, "So long as you don't absolutely prohibit anything of the kind from ever happening, I will accept your terms," she mumbled against his lips.

Solas swallowed nervously, wondering if he was entirely sane or if his hormones were overriding his objections.

"Agreed," he nodded tersely.

She hugged him tight with a delighted laugh, already infringing on the restrictions for store level interaction, because it was not a friendly hug, unless her definition of a hug included pressing their hips together and fondling his lower back, "Then we have a deal, Solas," she whispered in his ear.

Solas put his arms around his new semi-girlfriend, and felt a foreboding that he was sliding downhill back first, and it would be a very bumpy ride before it got better.

"Yes, we do," he kissed her hair in reply, "Yes, we do," he repeated to himself, still in shock. 

His regrets never were very far behind, and the arms around him constricted him like the bars of a cage, and Solas couldn't help feeling had just thrown away the key.

\---

 

Solas looked around his musty office, and frowned.

The moon was filtering in through the small high rise window, and the soft hum of magitech surrounded him, the blackboard in the middle of the room was full of his handwriting, and the desk was a mess of documents and books left half open, with complex calculations written all over the margins. He seated himself on his desk to rifle through papers and research materials; what had he been doing again?

The phone on his desk rang, an ominous sound in the silent night, and Solas felt a terror grip his very bones and shake him from within, and he stumbled away from the desk, flying for the exit, only to find the door locked, and his cries for help went unanswered, drowned by the demanding ring of the phone.

Solas wouldn't answer the phone, he couldn't answer it and-

The phone made a sound as if someone had picked up the receiver anyway, and cold sweat erupted all over his body as the air around him vibrated with sound waves, preventing his escape and drowing out his pleas.

An old, never-forgotten voice rose from the grave, the connection crackling, but the words fresh and sharp as if it were yesterday.

'I knew it would come to this, my little wolf. My music is ended, my dance over, and I'm sorry, but you must pay the price for my reckoning,' her voice was raspy, hoarse, the voice of a strong woman in her final moments. 

Solas attempted to cover his ears, and closed his eyes to ward off the memories, but the walls were bleeding blood and nothing could drown out the voice as it echoed in his very bones.

The woman laughed bitterly in the face of her certain doom, 'We had a deal, my little wolf; hold your end of the bargain, and put an end to it all,'

There was an audible click as a gun was readied, a breath before the trigger was pulled.

Solas looked up in panic, and that woman was standing over him, her corpse broken, dried blood sticking to her torso and her lips pulled into a rictus of a smile like in her autopsy photos, her golden eyes grinning and dead, holding a gun to his face.

She pulled the trigger with a bang that exploded the dream into slivers of glass around him, and everything went dark as her mocking laughter lingered in his soul.

Solas woke up screaming and shivering, rolling instinctively into a ball, shaking like a small child.

He could sense Ellana's worry radiating from her skin as she hovered next to him, her calls sounded far-away and faint; he could not make out her words in the numb keening sound as the world of dreams reconciled itself with reality.

The damage was done; the dreams would start again and would be in no hurry to stop any day soon, Solas knew it from bitter experience. 

The safeguards around his stone heart were down, and that meant that just as he had let in Ellana, it had also released the things he had locked deep within himself, the memories he did not wish to relive, the horrors of a past he had tried to bury for decades.

Ellana mumbled comfort into his ear and draped her arms around his shoulders; she was no idiot, and retaliated against his sudden relapse by her warm hands petting his skin, releasing soothing touches all around his frozen, terrified heart, thawing it with a smile.

She coaxed him out his terror gently, pushed him back down on his back and pulled him into her arms, holding his gaze with no words required, and he rested his head against her forehead with a shuddering sigh, seeking relief by clinging to her small body for refuge against the storm that was cresting on the horizon.

The worst was yet to come.

 

\---


	13. In your heart shall burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to another episode of holiday shenanigans. I invented another holiday theme, which if it does have a Thedas equivalent, I have no idea what it is; in this universe however, it doesn't matter! 
> 
> In this chapter we will observe a chattier Ellana, and perhaps some answers to what is really going on in her head... And finally, this chapter is the last of the romance arc. Prepare accordingly.
> 
> Rated M for the Iron Bull, who is the king of naughty sports. If you are skittish, avert your eyes from his dialogue.
> 
> Ps. Ellana hates shoes.  
> Pps. Dorian is a shameless busybody.  
> Ppps. You'll know it when it happens.

After their new arrangement came into effect, Solas walked around in a daze, uncertain what exactly had occurred. And when he lay his head on his pillow that night, he had known it had been a mistake to kiss her goodnight, because the warmth it bloomed in his heart had also breathed life to all his unhappy memories, parading about his dreams all night and driving him into the realm of a real panic attack.

The next morning with the nightmare still clinging to his spine, Ellana greeted him with a soft kiss and worried eyes, it was such a relief to have someone to hold until the morning light washed away his memories and doubts.

"Are you okay hah- Solas?" She corrected the term of respect into one of intimacy as she cooed into his ear, petting his back tenderly to smooth away his shivers.

With his forehead pressed to her shoulder and with his hands looped around her securely, Solas had been drifting back to sleep when her concern hit him like a thousand ton weight, and Solas came to a terrifying conclusion; he genuinely, passionately cared about Ellana. 

Solas had not expected the violence of his feelings to be so ardent nor so complete, although in retrospect it was obvious. Why else would he have caved in, and agreed to a more intimate relationship with her? Last night felt like it had happened in a hazy dream a lifetime ago, and while Solas admitted he had not been thinking straight or been very coherent these past few days, but in the sober morning light after his panic attack, the reality of it struck home at last.

"Did you have a bad dream?" Ellana continued gently, heedless of the gears turning in his head at top speed, "My mother always said you should tell someone of the fears you faced in dreams; that way they are less likely to come true,"

Solas mouth opened on its own to confess everything to her, but the trust and warmth in her eyes made all sound die in his throat. His misdeeds paraded about in his mind, laughing at his naive desire to confide in her.

Solas didn't want to have to see the light of affection be drowned out by disgust and wariness, indeed, the thought of her finding out the truth scared him even more than his dreams ever could. 

His confession warped into insincere platitudes, "I'll be fine. It was just a nightmare," and to divert her attention from his many defects, Solas instead sought to cover her lips with his own, relishing in the girlish giggles and the delighted smile on her face brought about by his spontaneous bout of affection.

"Hahren, stop, I need to check on our breakfast," she scolded him in between breathless smooches.

"Solas," he reminded her of their agreement, letting her go regretfully.

"Solas," she agreed with a grin as she stole one last peck before she hurried downstairs to check on her baking.

Solas' skin was as cold as his heart while he watched her disappear out of his sight, and though the scent of her lingered, it could not drive off the memories of darker days from his mind.

The warmth of her affection went only skin deep, but the uncomfortable thud of his frozen heart was painful in his chest as he descended and Ellana beamed at him from the kitchenette, melting all his defenses, and reminding him of the power she held over him.

Solas escaped that smile into the safety of his work, but it burned into his retinas anyway, disrupting everything and every thought process that wasn't about her.

Food drew him upstairs and had him lose himself in her smile, but whatever ease he had gained by showing affection in the past few weeks of casual kisses, had evaporated and left Solas as helpless and inept as a man gasping for breath at the shore after a shipwreck.

The simplicity of taking her hand in his seemed overwhelming, and the idle wish of drowning her in soft kisses to draw out those sweet giggles he had only heard this morning drenched him with the cold sweat of dread.

Every action seemed inadvisable, every hesitant glance ground at his guilty conscience, because how could this truly be real? Solas had done nothing to deserve it, indeed he should be confessing to her how he could never deserve it. 

This had to be some sort of fluke, or a dream he'd wake up from any moment.

The feel of her good arm turning his chin down to meet her lips when they were doing dishes after dinner seemed too good to be true. Solas had never felt so afraid of loss as when he was holding onto her shoulders to keep her close. The possibility that Ellana would disappear as suddenly as she had arrived and leave him with less than nothing occupied all his thoughts.

Solas was trapped, stuck between the bitter truth and the sweetest lies, lost in a dream he never wanted to wake up from.

\---

 

Three days later, after prolonged breaks and long winter evenings spent with her in his arms, and the nights spent roiling in guilt and resurgent nightmares, Solas felt like he was going insane. 

Indulging in the physical aspects of a romantic involvement was bad enough, but talking about his feelings, nevermind his past, had never been his strong suit. Avoiding the matter would be impossible in the long run, at best he could put it off for later.

When Ellana sat on his lap with a languid smile on her lips, expecting some meaningful description of how incredible being with her was, or a confession of what made him start awake in the middle of the night with a scream, Solas found himself powerless to do more than gape, and every moment spent in awkward silence because he could find no words to speak just drove home his inequity of being in a relationship.

Desperate for advice, Solas turned to a medium that had never before failed him; books. 

However, most of the titles he had in stock that were related to the subject were statistics from the social sciences, debating on the whys and wherefores people were so quick to divorce, how people determined the psychology of attraction and falling out of it, and other studies on the depressively brief love affairs in the human populace, which translated poorly for elves, nevermind elves as grim and fatalistic as Solas.

The few books he found online on the subject were not scientific, nor offered much beyond attaining a chosen mate. There was remarkably little on the maintaining of a relatioship or advice for people starting a serious commitment they were desperate not to screw up anymore than just being in one already did.

This wasn't even touching on the subject of how to confide his deepest fears without bringing up unfortunate secrets best left buried in the distant past.

Solas lamented his lack of family or past relationships, which could not offer him much beyond warning examples of 'under any circumstance, do not do this'. Frankly, just calling his earlier 'experiences' relationships was giving them credit they did not deserve. 'Abusive' and 'traumatising' would be more accurate of a description for his sorry forays into the world of romance before Ellana.

Solas would never admit it, but it was Dorian who gave him an idea how to work on his dilemma. 

Dorian had called the store to complain about his undergrads and whine about why Ellana couldn't appear for even one lecture to spare him the pain of rhapsodizing about the wonders of accurate diagrams to plebians more interested in their portable readouts.

"And another thing!" The Tevene continued his tirade while Solas held the receiver as far away from his ear as possible because Dorian's voice was giving him a headache, "With the Maker damned Hearth's Flame Day on the horizon, every student and even some of the professors are obsessed with canoodling in every broom closet on campus!"

Solas grunted, feigning interest while in reality he was only listening with half an ear and was busily updating this week's inventory.

"Tacky love notes are being passed in class without reserve or any care for appearances," Dorian listed with disgust, "The way everyone has taken to swooning when their pathetic crush catches their eye is obnoxious beyond description, and the only people attending classes by the end of the week will be me and some poor schmuck who is either asexual or doesn't care two bits about the whole silly event, and the rest will be out on dates or making out in whatever unoccupied corner they can find!"

Solas hummed inattentively; he offered a real smile to Ellana who had skipped downstairs to hand him a plate of freshly baked cookies, and she gave him a quick peck on his cheek over the counter before she returned upstairs, leaving him alone with Dorian's endless griping.

"It's tacky and disgusting, and even sweet, elegant Josephine has fallen under the sway of the amorous phermone riddled holiday madness!" Dorian complained, having completely missed the irony of raging about romantic gestures when Solas had just been accomplice to one, "Heart shaped, and revoltingly pink decorations are being arranged all over campus! I've torn out any such disgusting kitch frillery I find anywhere near my classroom, but my colleagues have all lost their senses and allowed the decorators to hang more of them everytime I try to strike for sanity; it's too much for my poor nerves," 

Dorian sniffled to indicate how affronted he was by the subject, as if his yearly tirade had not driven the point home long ago, "The only sensible thing about you old friend, is your dislike for the whole, soppy holiday. I am afraid I cannot say the same of Bull; he's insisting on taking me out to dinner somewhere, no doubt with a gauche Hearth's Flame themed menu if he had his way, but as usual, I'm the one who has to save the day and arrange a real and appropriate dinner for the occasion,"

Synapses in Solas' brain fizzled, drawing his attention away from the pleasures of the salty and sweet crumbly treats Ellana had become fond of in her drive to try out more of the recipes from his many secret cookbooks, an idea blooming in his head that might help him spend less time on the sofa canoodling and toying with the lines of propriety in the evenings.

"A dinner date?" Solas found himself pondering aloud.

"Have you been listening at all?" Dorian tsked with digust, "Ugh, yes, a stereotypical Hearth's Flame dinner date, like every other damn romantic fool in Thedas. I mean the holiday is just an excuse by shopkeepers to make more money. True romantics live Hearth's Flame every day, rather than just one day a year!"

Solas considered the possibility; taking Ellana out to dinner somewhere was a risk; the probability of causing a scene when her Dalish oddities came to fore was a real concern, and if he had to babysit her, he'd rather do it in an enclosed private environment which would make the entire design pointless. There was also a not neglible chance of being discovered by his small circle of friends, all with a wide web of their own mutual acquaintances who knew of him, and one and all of them frequented Haven's culinary establishments.

Solas worried for Ellana's reputation more than his own discomfort; being seen out with him in a clearly uncasual setting would lead to some disapprobation; their obvious difference in age was just the tip of the iceberg. It was one thing to believe she was living with him for charity's sake, another for suggesting that in the frame of that context, Solas was also bedding her. 

Solas was used to being made fun of for being a prude, but he would not have her forever be marked as the girl who was with him out of pity, or worse, because he made her pay back his charity by sexual favors.

But after one more evening of a prolonged, heated embrace, Solas knew something had to be done or he'd really be stepping out of line; he was not ready for the most carnal parts of a relationship, not with his subconscious screaming bloody murder every night.

He pushed Ellana off him and attempted to gather his dignity as well as his breath, "I was thinking... would you like to eat out tomorrow?" He stuttered before Ellana could distract him again.

She frowned, "It's a bit cold for a picnic, hahr- Solas," it was somewhat unsettling hearing a word Solas associated with unbiased wisdom of seniority from the mouth he had only just quit with his tongue.

"I meant in a restaurant," Solas continued, glad for the breather that allowed his overheated brain to cool down.

"You mean like the school cafeteria?" Ellana sounded confused, and Solas supposed that assumption to be fair enoug; he doubted the Dalish had much call for paid food preparers. 

Solas was surprised that no one had taken her out to eat before, but on second thought perhaps not; when you took her oddities and the fact that it was hard to reason with a woman more interested in scientific experiments than social experiments into account, it would render any such social interaction impossible, no matter how ardent the suitor.

"A bit more refined than a cafeteria," Solas promised, "But the basic principle is the same,"

"Why?" Ellana pouted, "Don't you like my cooking? I was going to make cheese and vegetable-"

"No, I love your cooking!" Solas hastily reassured her, "I just thought you'd enjoy a night off and out the house,"

Ellana crossed her arms and huffed.

"Is this a Dalish thing?" Solas babbled, desperate not to start a fight; he had expected more time to get used to the situation before thrown off the loop, again, "Because I meant no offense. It's considered a romantic gesture by society at large, taking someone out to dinner and be seen as a couple," he hastily explained.

Ellana looked baffled, "Shems are weird," she muttered, "I mean why would I want to eat the food of someone I never met or am related to? That's not just rude, that's disgusting!"

"You ate that pastry at Lady Montilyet's party," Solas pointed out, feeling out of his depth again.

"You gave it to me," Ellana shrugged.

"But I hadn't made it," Solas poked, too far down the rabbit hole to turn back.

"Your employer made them. It would have been rude to refuse them from your hand," she replied, and Solas gave up. It was not worth poking at.

"If I buy you dinner and hand you the plate, would you eat it?" Solas asked point blank.

"Is the cook your relative or your friend?" Ellana returned the question.

Solas rubbed his temples and took steadying breaths. The fact her objections were beginning to make sense was alarming.

"So, if the cook were a friend or somehow related to a friend, you'd agree to go out and eat in a restaurant?" Solas clarified.

"I suppose it would be alright," Ellana ventured hesitantly, "Though it would be a bit controversial,"

Solas smiled wanly, dreading the measures he'd have to take if he wanted to go through with it, but considering the way Ellana leaned in to continue the assault on his propriety, Solas had little choice if he wanted to retain his sanity.

\---

 

"Solas, to what do I owe this pleasure?" Dorian sounded way too pleased by the rare phone call, and Solas considered hanging up on the man rather than continue this excersise in humiliation.

"I need a favor," Solas gritted out.

"Oh, do you know?" Solas could practically hear him twirl his moustache.

"Do you know any owners or head cooks of a restaurant?" Solas demanded, determined to get this over with.

"Several; why do you ask?"

Solas hastily muttered as vague an explanation as he could.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that," Dorian laughed jovially, "You're going to have to speak clearer, old boy,"

"I said," Solas struggled to overcome the feeling of being strangled, and a deep red flush began invading his cheeks, "Ellana apparently won't eat out unless I am somehow acquainted with the establishment's owner or head cook, because it's not proper by Dalish standards,"

"What, did she explode your kitchen? You never eat out Solas," Dorian snickered with amusement.

Before Solas could retort, Dorian interjected, "Oh, I see where this is going. You want to surprise her for Hearth's Flame Day! You closet romantic you, why didn't you say so in the first place!"

"I just-" Solas spluttered.

"Bull, you big lug," Dorian hollered into the background, "You owe me ten sovereigns. I got us a new double date!" Solas could make out Bull's outrageous roar of laughter in the distance, and Dorian returned to the conversation practically purring with amusement, "Bull's partner had to drop out of our dinner plans; apparently his girlfriend got booked as a warm-up for a Hearth's Flame concert out of the blue and he has to drive her there and back,"

"Black tie, corsage optional," Dorian steamrolled over his spluttering objections, "But if I may suggest, you won't find any roses on such short notice so I recommend something fresh, like dahlias; I hope for your sake that black silk dress is not rolled up in a ball in some dusty corner behind a mound of books, because we'll be late if we have to find Ellana a suitable replacement on such short notice!" 

"I'm not-" Solas tried desperately to interject, but was overruled by a bout of condescending laughter.

"We'll pick you up at six p.m. tomorrow; we got a table at the Palais, the original ran by my friend, not the pretencious copycat," Dorian declared, "It's all paid for in advance, don't worry your frumpy purse over it, call it my treat for making her pass her midterms on time; just look sharp and make sure she wears the heels," 

The line went dead and Solas swore loudly as he banged his head on the counter, wishing he could stand up for himself for once, rather than sit there gaping like a mute fish.

\---

 

Unsurprisingly, getting Ellana to wear heels for the occasion was but the start of his troubles that night.

Eventually he succeeded in the persuasion; Solas started out with shameless flattery of how pretty she'd look in them to catch her off her guard, when that did not work, he pointed out it would be against etiquette to go barefoot in hopes reason would prevail, and as a last resort, Solas trapped her in his lap while he wrangled her unwilling feet into the black pumps, which luckily had straps Ellana would be hard pressed to remove on her own easily without being conspicious. 

The preparations complete, Solas led his unwilling dinner date outside by the arm.

"You are late," Dorian informed them over his fashionable and unseasonal shades, leaning on side of the purring silver sports car.

Dorian appraised their attire, and deemed it adequate before he let them be seated in the car, made custom for the needs of the Qunari driving it so his horns did not puncture the ceiling.

"Looking nice Solas," the flirtatious Qunari greeted them, and winked at Ellana from the mirror, "And Ellana, wow, how does he keep his hands off you?"

Ellana giggled at the lewd comment, and Solas concentrated on looking into the distance and hoping the mortification would fall off his face before they got to the restaurant.

Solas could feel Dorian's apprising stare when Ellana attached herself to his arm once out of the car, both for balance because of the heels she was unused to wearing, and in a more intimate hold than usual, probably because she was marking her territory in deferene to the surprising amount of people out and about.

The restaurant boasted a tasteful high class decor, but portions you would not find in a truly upper class restaurant, a fortuitous state of affairs because the Iron Bull would starve if he were forced to subsist on the pittance elite restaurants served, that even the elves considered sparse, all light eaters by nature.

Solas was saved any deliberation on terms of the menu; apparently Dorian had ordered a three-course dinner for four specially for the occasion.

It was by all rights ten times the price Solas could have afforded for Ellana's sake on a single meal, never mind the whole set and the ridiculously overpriced champagne.

Bull and Dorian had been doing all the talking, informing Solas, whether he wished to or not, about the recent cases Bull and Krem had been tackling together, a play-by-play of the last match Bull and his Chargers had won in the friendly inter-department sports league for Police officers.

Ellana seemed sceptical of the revolving display tray full of pastries and tastefully minimalist sandwiches presented as their hors d'oeuvres; she kept reaching for something but never could get her fork in there before the display had passed her by.

After three circuits, Solas snatched the sandwich she had been aiming for and passed onto her, along with three more entrees she pleaded his assistance with. 

Solas could no more stop Ellana from giving him a chaste cheek kiss in return for the food than he could instruct the Sun not to rise in the morning. This did not go unnoticed by Dorian, and his hopes of keeping their relationship from not becoming the focus of the evening was dashed before it got off the starting line.

Dorian and Bull exchanged smug grins after witnessing the public display of affection.

"So, Ellana dear," Dorian was grinning like the cat that had got at the cream, "Is this your first time at a restaurant?"

"It is," Ellana happily munched on a delicate Orlesian style venison pastry.

"I understand from Solas you had some concerns about this outing," Dorian continued innocently. 

"Shem food is weird," Ellana replied with a shrug, poking at the pastry with her fork; she obviously wanted to use her fingers, but was trusting Solas' advice he had repeated ten times beforehand that touching food with their hands in public was an absolute no-no, "But hahr- Solas said it was an important courting ritual for shems and city elves, so I promised to go," she reluctantly picked up a knife to cut a piece of the pastry for eating.

You could have heard a pin drop in the silence born of that statement; Solas barely resisted the urge to slam his face onto his plate and stay like that until the night was over, and instead took a long gulp of champagne and intentionally avoided catching the eye of either of their dinner companions. He could easily guess what their expressions were like, there was no need to rub salt over his sore ego; after all Ellana had just handed over everything they'd ever want to know about their relationship without any prodding necessary.

"Oh it is," Dorian nodded enthusiastically, "Did you know today is a very special day for lovers in modern society?"

"Really?" Ellana's eyes widened, glancing at him before she returned to her hors d'oeuvres, "Solas didn't mention it," she mumbled almost to herself.

"He didn't want to make a big deal of it," Bull winked at him and Solas took comfort from his drink, fighting down the merciless blush spreading throughout his face no doubt, "My friend Dalish still gets the date wrong, or doesn't remember it at all, she says the Dalish don't celebrate it because it is Andrastian in origin,"

"Hearth's Flame Day is a day for ridiculous grand gestures of love, be it a bouquet of flowers, or a dinner at a fancy restaurant of their choice," Dorian explained ruefully, "Pink confetti optional,"

"And also a great excuse to spend the day rolling in the sack with a guy of your choice," Bull added laschievously.

"Oh," Ellana snapped her fingers, "It's like Lover's Toll for you! Now I understand,"

"What, you mean your Hearth's Flame Day is on Lover's Toll?" Dorian chortled, "The Andrastians smacked a lesson about the Maker, Maferath and Andraste's doomed love triangle over the day and left it at that,"

"Lover's Toll is the day everyone wants to be bonded on," Ellana informed them, "It's a day blessed by Sylaise, a good omen for conceiving children and a promises a happy bonding of many decades,"

"Isn't bonding the Dalish term for marriage?" Bull questioned like a connoisseur; Solas felt overwhelmed by the wealth of information these two had managed to extoll from Ellana over hors d'oeuvres, and he had lived with her for months! What were those two up to? They were never this snoopy without reason; hadn't they gotten what they wanted already?

"If you mean the promising of intent, then yes," Ellana replied.

"If everyone wants to be bonded on the same day," Dorian sounded confused, "Wouldn't that be terribly chaotic? Wouldn't you want to choose a nice summer day, and have all your friends there just for you and not the five other couples?"

"Why do shems have to make it so complicated," Ellana rolled her eyes, "The couple make any vows they want to each other, not to the rest of the Clan. Bonding is intimate and subjective, celebrating the final bond is another thing entirely!"

"And that sounds even more confusing and complicated!" Dorian chortled, "Final Bonding? I thought bonding was for life and that was it?"

Ellana glanced at Solas, then began explaining solemnly, "Sometimes a Clan objects to the bonded couple, and prevents a final bonding from taking place. It means the couple may be bonded in spirit but others do not acknowledge the bond having taken place, but this is rare,"

Ellana began listing while she chewed thoughtfully on a sandwich, "If there are objections of infidelity, or if there are great concerns of ultimate suitability either because of too close family connections in the near past, or because either or both bondmates are judged unworthy; only then is the Clan obligated to make such a harsh judgment and is allowed to express its disapproval for all to see,"

"But a final Bonding is a celebration for the couple being recognised as bonded," Ellana chomped down the final piece of sandwich, and continued with a big, goofy smile, "Usually after either a set period of time for reflection has passed, or on the birth of the couple's first child. There is a big party, lots of free food and drink for everyone, and stories of both families are shared for the first time. It is a festival, and the Dalish love nothing more than a final bonding party,"

"That sounds like fun!" Bull rumbled with a big friendly grin, "What kind of stories are talking about; dirty stories, drinking stories, war stories?"

"That's what you'd like," Dorian snickered and nudged his boyfriend fondly.

"Family legends, stories of our ancestors' lives, and their achievements," Ellana recounted happily, sipping champagne, "And some of the current family line are recounted as well, all in order to divine a future for the declared bond mates and chart the possible course of their children, if there are any,"

"Stories sound important to the Dalish," Bull commented sagely.

"Oh indeed, nothing is more valuable than knowledge," Ellana emphasised severely, "There is no greater insult than denying someone knowledge, especially familial knowledge. Conversely, sharing knowledge is the noblest of all causes, and our leaders are supposed to be those that remember all our wisdom and stories, and pass them on to the next generations,"

"One cannot understand the world or ourselves without knowledge of our past," Ellana recited as if from some holy book, "The past shapes the present and can offer safe directions for the future,"

"That's deep," Bull slipped a small pastry out the revolving tray with a deft, delicate touch that would surprise most who beheld him and expected to see a huge brute only capable of smashing things, "Are there many same sex, interracial or city elves who get to do the final bond thing with a Dalish?" Bull continued casually.

"Yes, no, and no," Ellana fiddled with her last pastry, "Of the three, same-sex bonding between Dalish is the only acceptable alternative to most Clans, and to the smaller, more conservative Clans, all three are taboo,"

Solas snuck a glance at Ellana; her tone had lowered and become much more reserved as the speech progressed, and he grew concerned why her mood had suddenly plummeted.

"So tell me," Dorian interjected chipperly; if he had noticed any awkwardness, he certainly did not show it, "How does an unbonded couple differ from a bonded couple, finally or otherwise? Aside from the obvious, of course,"

Ellana forced a smile, "The chief difference is that bonded couples move together to live in the same aravel in order to start a life together; unbonded couples may show preference towards one another, even be lovers privately, but they don't share an aravel,"

"What's an 'aravel'?" Dorian cheerfully mauled the term.

"A landship," Solas translated with a grunt, "In modern terms, a trailer they live in,"

"If the family is not rich in terms of wealth or property that one cannot be given away," Ellana added, "The couple might build or have an aravel built for them. But a shared aravel is usually considered the pre-requisite of bonding, officially or unofficially,"

"The Dalish really live in trailers?" Dorian sounded affronted by the idea, "Like tramps and nomads? In the Dragon Age?"

"The big communal ones are rather cumbersome to move easily," Ellana muttered sheepishly, "But if you ask me, living in an unmoving aravel is strange, not the other way around,"

"You use the word aravel for houses then?" Dorian asked, picking up the last of the hors d'oeuvres.

"Aravels are aravels, you shems just build yours weird and wonky," Ellana grumbled, stabbing the last pastry into mush on her plate.

"Interesting," Dorian exchanged a thoughtful glance with Bull, "And I thought the Qun was odd!"

"We're nice and simple, kadan, and have no silly marriage customs to get in the way," Bull winked at Dorian.

The Tevene laughed bashfully, signalling a waiter to clear the table to ready for the main course.

A large, heavy roast was brought and placed on their table by no less than three waiters, and Bull cheerfully took the carving knife from the struggling waiter attempting to cut into the immense, thick roast, and Bull began to cleave fat chunks off the bone cleanly and with little effort.

Solas had a sinking feeling it was his turn to be interrogated, and he was not wrong when Dorian slyly commented while this operation was in place, "You're not Andrastian, are you Solas? What do you believe in?"

Solas narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but answered anyway, "Cause and effect, wisdom as its own reward, and the inherent right of all free-willed beings to exist," he listed neutrally.

"So, you don't believe in the Dalish gods?" Dorian poked the beast.

"I believe that the Ancient Elven Evanuris existed, there is irrefutable historical evidence proving it, but whether they truly were gods or just great leaders has not been proven one way or the other," Solas returned cautiously, glancing at Ellana to gauge her reaction to this piece of theology.

She was observing him intently, but it was impossible to say which way or the other her reaction went.

"Do you believe in bonding, or would you rather do an Andrastian wedding like many inter-racial couples nowadays?" Dorian jabbed, and Solas felt a muslce twitch under his eye at the insinuation.

"I'll have you know Dorian," Solas replied as calmly as possible, "That all elves consider bonding the norm, rather than an Andrastian marriage, although many facets have been mixed into the tradition of bonding from human cultural norms over the centuries of co-existence. Every magistrate in Haven these days recognise the legal rights of bonded couples, and though the ceremonies vary from one country to the next in Elven communities, bonding at its most basic a binding marriage in front of witnesses; the final bonding is a practise that has fallen out of use, or merged with the first promise because of Andrastian influences,"

"But what do you want?" Dorian pressed cheerfully.

"Most Elves in Haven perform bonding ceremonies privately," Solas generalized, not willing to go into detail about his private life in public from mere snoopy pestering.

"You're from an old, established Haven family of elves, aren't you?" Bull offered him several slices of meat with a friendly grin, "I think there are Wolfes in Haven's archives from even before the Andrastians set up shop in the Valley, right?"

"There's been an elven colony based in Skyhold since the Ancient Era, yes," Solas confirmed with clipped tones, shredding the tender meat viciously to relieve his annoyance at the topic safely.

"Your family must know all about the bonding traditions in these parts then," Dorian observed, sipping his champagne elegantly, "What does your family do? Is there a big white wedding or do you just cohabitate and leave it at that?"

Solas desperately wanted to drown this conversation in champagne and pretend he didn't understand the unsubtle fishing for where the relationship was going, despite them only being 'together' together for a scant week.

"It's not a big deal," Solas grunted, "If you want to make a big fuss about it, my parents were in an officially officiated 'common-law marriage', but that was the exception,"

"Oh? Your parents? Where are they now?" Dorian queried delicately.

"Dead," Solas returned coldly, hoping they were done with this topic.

"I'm sorry to hear that old friend," Dorian brushed off the awkwardness with a jovial smile, "But they would surely have been proud to see you with such a lovely companion at your time of life," he innocently asserted, a teasing twinkle in his eye.

Solas decided not to deign that question with an answer; he knew a trap when he heard one.

After the awkward silence had passed for many minutes, broken only by the scrape of cutlery and thoughtful chewing, Dorian finally took the hint and changed the subject, using the opportunity to pester Ellana about the finals instead.

Solas enjoyed the dessert at the very least, because by then the awkward topics had become a distant memory, having changed to perfectly ordinary banter about the Chargers and Dorian's usual griping about his work.

Of course after letting his guard down, Bull brought up a whole new perpective to humiliation for the sake of humiliation alone at the worst possible moment.

"So, have you two gotten busy yet, or do you need a review on the basics?" Bull waved a spoonful of their excellent dessert of whiskey flavored ice cream with caramel sauce, and sprinkled with cookie crumbs dipped in more whiskey.

By now Solas was pleasantly tipsy and so relaxed that the sudden topic change almost made him choke on his ice cream.

"Well, in general, the four keys to good sex are; nothing is more sexy than consent, don't be stingy about the foreplay, always use protection, and extra lube never hurts," Iron Bull continued easily, "Other than that, pick a position both of you like and have fun, it's not a ritual or an obligation, but do it right and it will be better than great,"

"I think Solas over there needs a bit more elaborate explanations," Dorian pointed out cheekily, "Judging by the shade of his face as well as knowing full well he has not been seeing anyone in ten years, or, Maker forbid, even longer than that,"

"Ten years? Seriously?" Bull sounded scandalized, "Oh man, we should've gotten you laid ages ago, no wonder you're so uptight about everything,"

"Right," Bull cracked his knuckles and neck menacingly, "Let's get down to brass tacks. First things first; finding the right size for anyone not a human is tricky-"

Solas listened in shocked, mute horror, too tipsy to find the right words to object as Bull went over different contraceptives and their use in excruciating detail, discussed different types of lubrication sold and the do's and don'ts related to their use, and by the time he got to details about sexual congress, Solas was willing to dash his head against the wall to end his misery.

"No!" He snapped hysterically, interrupting Bull's calm analysis on the pros of sexy underwear, "Enough! I have heard. Enough. Thank you for your kind intentions, but what we do or don't do is none of your damned business!" Solas hissed in anguish, certain he was red enough in the face to cook an egg on it.

"I've got a few tutorials and videos if you're-" Bull added hopefully.

"No! Thank! You!" Solas gestured frantically to make him shut up.

"I'll e-mail them for you," Bull promised perfectly seriously, "Oh, I'll add a few recommendations to a few specialised shops in Haven-"

What followed was an agonisingly detailed comparison of various shops with an emphasis for the naughty things adults liked to pursue with one another, during which Solas turned his furious, mortified glare to Dorian, who was doing his best not to snicker, although the state of his perpetually smirking face was unavoidable.

"Happy Hearth's Flame Day to you too," Dorian raised his glass at him without a shred of remorse.

\---

 

Solas wanted to crawl into a hole and die, he was so embarrassed and humiliated by the night's entertainment, he couldn't wait to fall asleep to more horrible nightmares that awaited him in his subconscious!

He could just imagine what joys tonight's emphasis in sexual matters would draw forth from the sea of his subconscious! Certainly one of his three 'girlfriends', if you could even call them that, who had one and all added to his disdain and bitterness towards the world.

Or perhaps all of them, wrapped up with a nice ribbon with all the mockery he had suffered since then from everyone for his reluctance to pursue someone just for the sake of physical gratification? 

Solas had paced his apartment in a daze since he had crossed the threshold, all his drunken thoughts mixing into a nice potpourri stew in his mind while completely ignoring his companion until a timid hand touched his elbow.

Solas recoiled, and seeing her hurt expression he slumped onto the couch with a bitter exhale.  
"I'm sorry, it's not your fault," Solas admitted irritably.

Ellana seated herself next to him, but made no move to touch him again, and he could not blame her.

"It was a dream," Solas whispered, his voice thick enough to choke on, drunken and miserable, "Perhaps it would have been better if it had stayed that way,"

She laid her head on his shoulder with a dull thud.

"This was not a good idea," Solas scoffed at his naivete, "I should have known better, I-I'm sorry,"

Ellana let out a shuddering sigh.

Solas snaked his arm around her bare shivering shoulders, she looped hers around his torso with a sigh.

Ellana smiled up at him, completely at ease. It was all too simple lean down and place one last tender kiss on her forehead, and Solas found himself lingering, resting his forehead on hers.

"Do you really think this is just a dream?" She returned, "Because this seems real to me," 

"If it were true, it does beg a question," Solas huffed, "How does someone like you end up here, with someone like me?"

"The usual way," Ellana murmured back, "A boy meets a girl, and sparks fly,"

Solas snorted, "I have not been considered a boy for a good three decades, Ellana,"

"Outwardly, perhaps," Ellana teased with a hint of a smile twinkling in her eyes.

"That would explain a few things," Solas chortled, and she joined him with giggles of her own.

"I'm going to make cheese and vegetable casserole tomorrow," she informed him seriously, "Will you take any?"

"Is there some significance I am unaware of?" Solas countered with a smile.

"Well, it's not really perfect; the shem cheese just lacks the flavor of our Halla cheese," Ellana contemplated, "And I'm not half as talented a cook as some of my kin. But my hearth is your hearth, and any food I have, I would share with you," she muttered bashfully.

In the moonlight, her green eyes shone like uncut emerald gemstones, and Solas' stone heart cracked a little further, the flood waters rising with each melted patch of ice inside. 

Solas captured her mouth with his own, the faint taste of whiskey and ice cream lingering on her tongue evoked images of yearning for a safe place in the darkness, where he would not be alone and someone would share ice cream kisses with him in reality, and not just in wistful daydreams he was too old for.

"If this is a dream, then I never want to wake up," Solas whispered between fluttering kisses, "Wherever you are, is the place of my heart, ma vhenan," he breathed shallowly, a fear he had overstepped his bounds grew in his gut as he waited for her reaction.

Ellana beamed at him, gasping with a lyrical verse of strange incomprehensible Dalish poetry, but he was too busy kissing her to take notice.

"Warm my hearth this night," She pleaded with rosy cheeks that spread to cover his own.

Solas pressed her left fingers to his heart gently, "Share in my hearth, and be warmed in its glow," he replied formally, and shared a kiss with her that set him aflame.

\---

 

When Solas beheld the first branch whose snow was melting, it was as if someone had punched a hole in the hull of a ship at sea.

Winter was ending.

It was a mild day in late February, and Solas was returning to his shop with Ellana, both encumbered by shopping bags, and carefully eyeing the ground for any slick patch of melted snow that had frozen over again.

The tree in the small courtyard in front of the grocerer's was dropping its snow in piles, the branches dusting off Winter and preparing for Spring. 

Solas stopped to stare, the terrifying realization dawning upon him that soon Ellana would have no obligation or need to share his house any longer, and could take care of herself in her cramped little aravel as she had all her life.

Solas tried to rally his spirits; surely Winter was not over yet. There was still snow, and soon there'd be sleet and mud, the banes of all motor vehicles everywhere! Surely she would do the sensible thing if pressed; stay indoors rent free, and wait it out.

Yes, Winter would not truly give way to spring until late March, at the earliest. Ellana could surely be persuaded to stay a little longer and wait for the weather to turn to spring properly before she set off into the wilderness on her own.

On the walk back home, Solas fished for more reasons Ellana had to stay, in case he had to present a water-tight case later. He evoked recollections of how his house was a real mess of badly repaired (before Ellana had come into his life) and maintained ancient equipment bought cheap, and Ellana would surely need to look over everything and maintenance each machine properly before she left for good; some of his machines were so antique, even her renovations could not save them from their age, and it would take her days to build a suitable replacement.

They headed for the personal back entrance, squeezing past the aravel and his modest car, and seeing the chipped painted exterior of the battered snowbound trailer, Solas added to his list that Ellana would need to spend some time refurbishing and repairing her aravel from its first Haven Winter, surely an operation that would take weeks to finish! The frost and the damp would affect a metalline trailer, and all the electronics and scrap metal within, perhaps even rusting them over into disuse that she'd have to repair or replace.

Solas skipped upwards with their loot and began unpacking, cheerfully thinking that she'd need to stock up on provisions too, another delay! Perhaps dragging the final removal to April!

"You're in a good mood," Ellana teased him, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind.

"Oh," Solas fumbled with words he was uncertain how to frame, and instead said, "I am pleased by the prospect of seeing Sophia tomorrow,"

Her hug tightened and rose on her tiptoes to place her head on his shoulder, "Can I come?"

"Of course," Solas promised breathlessly, glancing backwards at her beaming face, and was overwhelmed by such a simple thing as a smile from a beautiful girl.

"Of course, vhenan," he promised and felt his throat warble at his strong feelings thundering in his body like a storm roiling in the distance.

\---

 

Seeing Sophia bedridden and even wearier was no easier for him than the last two times. 

Ellana, who had not yet seen Sophia like this, was sobered considerably, but rallied when Sophia called to her cheerfully, "My dear, it's so good to see you,"

Ellana hastened to take the weakened old woman's outstretched hand, offering her a smile in return.

"I am sorry my dear that you had to see a dying old woman at her worst," Sophia apologised, "I hope you can forgive me, for being happy at seeing you, even if the reverse is not true,"

"That's not true," Ellana protested, "I am glad to see you,"

"Such a dear girl," Sophia fought against a hacking cough, and Solas joined the bedside to ease Sophia's suffering as best he could.

"I see you took my advice," Sophia observed after the attack passed, causing a blush to spread along Solas' cheekbones, and made him shift his feet with embarrassment.

"I've been married four times in my life," Sophia rolled her eyes, "I've done the awkward newly wed phase, twice. The third time we skipped that part straight to marital disputes that led to divorce, but to be fair, she and I were pretty drunk when we decided to skip courtship, and the fourth, well, by that point it seemed pretty silly to be embarrassed,"

"We-we're not married," Solas hissed as Ellana had wandered off to fill the vase full of flowers she had insisted on getting Sophia.

Sophia laughed, "My friend, she made you buy flowers,"

"Buying flowers for people who are recovering is a staple of courtesy," Solas returned in confusion.

"When have you last bought anyone flowers? I certainly never expected any, not even when I had that hip surgery four years ago," Sophia pointed out with a wry smile, "Can you honestly say you have not done things at her urging you would never do on your own?"

Solas opened his mouth to argue but not a sound came out; when casting his mind back, he had to admit that everything from the start of their relationship to this moment had happened because of Ellana, not the other way around.

Ellana brought the decorative flower vase she had bought with his money and placed it on the bedside table with a smile.

"They look very lovely dear," Sophia smiled indulgently at the young woman.

"My mother said Crystal Grace helps breathing, and refreshes the mind," Ellana explained as she adjusted the bright blue bell shaped flowers, "In Elven myth it was used by a Wise King to cure his beloved of an illness and saved their unborn child,"

"That is very thoughtful of you," Sophia praised the girl, "Your mother knows her herbal remedies,"

Ellana took a seat by the bedside demurely and mumbled, "She is the healer of our Clan," Ellana twirled a lock of hair around her finger, "I used to help her manage her herb garden,"

"Oh? What is she like?" Sophia asked politely, "I hope she is proud of you, I would be if I had a daughter as thoughtful and kind as you,"

Ellana fidgeted and cleared her throat, "She is... strict. She expected great things of myself and my brother. But she is a very wise woman, very highly respected in the Clan," she reassured them hastily, "Most of my kinsmen would have lost many a limb or never recovered from an illness if not for her. She has to be strict and precise, it is her duty,"

"And your father?" Sophia changed subject.

Ellana smiled faintly, "He... died when I was a baby, I never really knew him,"

"I am sorry to hear that," Sophia lamented, "You know, my father used to-" the old woman began recounting tales of her unconventionally inventive father and the adventures they'd gone on together in her youth, and Ellana sat and listened as attentively as ever.

Solas spent the time looking over the past few weeks since he had began an intimate relationship with her; all these people kept asking Ellana questions of her family, and she answered readily enough, but whenever they were alone, all he seemed capable of doing was stare at her, and kiss her in a pinch. 

That wasn't a healthy relationship, but all this talk of bonding and marriage made him think about where they were going. His first goal of having her move away when Summer came or when she found a place of her own now seemed childish or undesireable. But how could they be in a functional relationship when he couldn't do more than brood about the inapproriate nature of their situation or have nightmares about his past he could never speak to her about? At some point, kisses would not be enough, and if he ever got round to it, sex would not fix the fact Solas was not socially apt or mentally healthy enough to pursue her emotionally.

Catching the smile she threw him now and again when their eyes met made his heart beat faster, and yet a pain was building up in his breast because he wasn't sure how he could ever be worthy of her.  
Solas was drawn out of his downwardly spiraling thoughts by Sophia's delighted laughter.

"You took her out for Hearth's Flame Day dinner?" Sophia's eyes were sparkling with a wry amusement, bringing their earlier topic to the fore, "How romantic!"

"I was- a-a friend of mine had arranged a four person dinner date and-" Solas stuttered hastily.

"However it came about, it was a big step my friend, considering that only three months ago your idea of a good time was reading a book on Sunday," Sophia teased him, "Going from reading books to going out to dinner for a romantic holiday is commendable progress,"

Solas glared at his friend, feeling another flush creep up on his cheeks; a regrettably common occurrence these days.

"I am genuinely happy for you two," Sophia pat Ellana's hand, "I know you must have to put up with a lot with him, but he is an honest, kind person who has become used to being alone and unwanted," Sophia continued gently, "Don't be discouraged my dear, stoicism maybe the worst character flaw when it comes to understanding, but if you are as intelligent and talented as you have so far shown yourself to be, you can wean him out of it. He can be quite the chatterbox you know, so the capacity is there,"

Ellana glanced at Solas thoughtfully, and Solas shifted uncomfortably in his seat; he was not certain he wanted her to start digging for responses. Some truths were best left buried in the past.

"And as for you, my friend," Sophia pushed, "I forbid you to feel sorry for yourself, and if the opportunity presents itself, that you rise to meet it like a man," she emphasised the last part, knowing full well what held him back.

Once more Sophia's admonition hit much too close to home for comfort.

Those words haunted him all through the long drive home, but he was just as powerless as ever to find the right words to phrase his troubles and doubts to Ellana, who seemed happy in her own little world.

Solas watched her from the corner of his eye, and hardened his resolve; he would tell her today, he decided. 

The longer he put it off, the more catastrophic the reveal would be, and the harder the disappointment, especially if their intimacy progressed to the next level before he came clean.

When Solas pulled in to the small alleyway behind his shop, he found the drive blocked by the bulk of what looked like a huge, dark trailer.

Ellana gasped aloud as a woman wrapped in tribal leathers appeared from inside the obstruction, glaring at his car as if it was an eyesore, her arms crossed in front of her forbiddingly and her chin raised haughtily.

Ellana practically jumped out of her seat and stepped out the car to yell something in her incomprehensible Elvish. 

Solas was confused by this stranger and the even stranger behaviour it sparked in Ellana, until the other woman stepped into his headlights from the gloom, allowing Solas to see the tattooed markings on her dusky skin, and he heard the defiant garbled statement in the same language she barked back at Ellana.

Understanding filled Solas; the woman was Dalish, and judging by the shouting match she began with Ellana, possibly a relative from her Clan. There seemed to be some form of recognition going on, but since Solas could not follow the conversation it was more of a hunch than a certainty.

Solas sat behind the wheel and focused on staying calm, although he was not sure how well he was succeeding.

What this meant for them, Solas had no idea, but he would find out all too soon he feared, his knuckles tightening around the steering wheel in anticipation, and all thoughts of his own revelations were pushed to the backburner.

As suddenly as the fighting had begun, it ended. Both women erupted into wide grins and burst into giggles, meeting half-way in a tight embrace.

Solas hesitantly stepped out of the car, drawing the notice of the unknown woman, who glared viciously enough at him over Ellana's head that Solas took a nervous step back.

"So," the woman growled, narrowing her almond shaped dark eyes, rimmed with June's vallaslin, "You're the seth'lin," the woman practically spat the derogatory insult. Her Common accent was best described as gravelly, and her voice betrayed a fondness for smoking.

The elven woman was wiry and a head taller than Ellana, able to look Solas in the eye, and Solas supposed some would call her beautiful, but the effect was marred for him by the vallaslin. She had long, elaborately braided black hair, and shared some similiarities in the shape of her head and nose with Ellana.

"Lynelle!" Ellana hissed forbiddingly, glaring at the woman fearsomely as she stomped her foot, adding an admonition in Elvish Solas could not make heads or tails of, ending the fight by dragging the woman to the house without so much as a by your leave from him.

Solas sighed and decided to find another parking spot while the women got it out of their system. He got into the car, but couldn't help feeling anxious by this sudden development.

When he returned to the house, it was to find Ellana and 'Lynelle' in the throes of a fierce argument on the second landing, one Solas was loathe to disrupt.

Ellana noticed him dithering on the landing, and feigned a smile for his sake, "Solas, um, I think some introductions are in order," she interrupted her relative's tirade, "This is Lynelle, my cousin,"

'Lynelle' rolled her eyes, then turned her sharp tongue back to insulting him bluntly, "I do not see why my cousin seems so enamored with you. You are neither handsome, strong, nor one of the true People. I cannot bear the thought my cousin should be lost to the Clan, to her family, for something like you,"

"This isn't about that Lynelle, don't blame him for what happened," Ellana hissed under her breath, "You know that; this is my choice, just as it ever has been,"

Lynelle huffed in disgust, and did not retract her words.

Solas could not find a suitable reply, being cussed out by strange Dalish women related to his 'girlfriend' were not part of his expectations for the day, nevermind understanding what exactly he was being accused of.

"Why would she 'be lost' to the Clan?" Solas demanded, clenching his jaws together to stop him from returning the insults, "She's studying here, but I don't-"

Lynelle laughed mockingly, "An ignorant flat-ear, what a surprise! What a catch you are, a real credit to our bloodline," the woman retorted with scathing sarcasm.

The woman shook her head pityingly, but there was a sharp sheen to her studying gaze, "Did you really think there wouldn't be any sort of reproach from us after what you've done?" The woman waved off Ellana's attempt to interrupt, taking several steps forward and began hissing at him like a vengeful banshee, "The People take care of their own; leading on my naive cousin in her time of vulnerability is bad enough, but I could have let that slide, we all make mistakes and I don't care what wild oats she's sowing down here, but rubbing your inappropriate and outrageous bond in our faces?"

The woman scoffed, "You're lucky it was I who intercepted the letter informing us of your bonding before my cousin, or Creators forbid, my aunt got her hands on it, because they'd have had you killed in an instant to satisfy their honor,"

A tense, expecting silence followed this declaration, but Solas found it hard to even begin contemplating a suitable explanation when his brain had shut down after the word 'bonding'.

"E-excuse me?" Solas fought to regain his voice from the overwhelming terror that had caught him by the throat and was squeezing all breath from him; this had to be some kind of joke, nothing else made sense, but one glance at Ellana's serious visage shattered his delusions before they began.

"You heard me flat-ear," Lynelle sneered, "I'm here to put an end to this ridiculous 'bond' you've persuaded my foolish cousin into,"

Everything in Solas ground to a halt as the words struck home like razor sharp ice spears sinking deep into his flesh, and the ensuing Elvish argument between cousins sounded distant to his ears, as if heard from behind a glass.

Bonded.

Ellana's family thought they were bonded.

He was... she...

Bonded. 

This couldn't be real. It had to be a mistake, a misunderstanding. Because if it wasn't...

Then Ellana... and him... they were...

Bonded.

 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even assuming that my wrist should recover enough that I can write with both hands unobstructed, all the events I am going to get embroiled in next week will get in the way of a timely update, but I will try to push out the next chapter sometime next week.  
> Real life can be such a hassle.


	14. Betwixt and between

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ATEN'T DEAD.
> 
> Thank you all my lovely readers for being patient with me; my life has sadly taken a rather steep downcurve, and I am swimming in deadlines and work for the next few weeks. The next update will be slow going I am afraid, hopefully I can devote myself to writing again sometime in December. 
> 
> This chapter got re-written and re-worked so many times that I decided to just flip it and post it; it'll never be good enough for my perfectionism, but then nothing is ever good enough for a perfectionist.  
> Lots and lots of dialogue... but sometimes you have to talk things out! Don't be like Solas and keep things bottled up until they burst.  
> This is chapter starts the 'bonding' arc; expect tears and the gnashing of teeth before the end! Because we all know that once the honeymoon is over, the real challenge begins...
> 
> Ps. Lynelle, like most Dalish, drives her aravel like it's a race car.

For the first two minutes of Lynelle's rant, Solas was in a state of paralysis and a shock so thick not one word registered in his brain.

Then it kickstarted into overdrive; every moment of the past few months was re-examined at length and after a thorough analysis, Solas concluded he was the blindest idiot in the universe.

From the clarity of hindsight, it was obvious that Ellana had completely misunderstood his meaning when he had offered to share his house to her as a winter residence; she had thought he meant he was offering her his 'aravel' and asking her to bond with him.

But the real mystery was; why had she staid? With the way Solas had been resolutely against any and all physical contact until very recently, surely Ellana couldn't have not noticed he wasn't exactly open to the idea of romantic overtures, or had he unknowingly been sending her the right cultural signals without realising it?

With some chagrin Solas had to admit that he hadn't exactly stopped her from cuddling with him, or stopped her from sleeping in the same bed, or in any way, shape, or form given her a definitive no. Solas had objected to the propriety, but never said she couldn't keep presuming the relationship was as she believed it to be, only set restrictions on their interactions... bottom line, he could only blame himself for encouraging her. 

However, being considered bonded without his implicit consent? That Solas objected to on principle; if for no other reason than for the fact that it was dishonest and unjust.

Protesting the existence of the bond seemed like the prudent option, but Ellana's judging stare promised trouble if he chickened out of his words now; she had threatened leaving often enough for him not to doubt her capability of making a scene. Agreeing to the bond would be against Solas' principles and once you started lying, eventually you would have to pay the piper for them, at the worst possible moment.

Understanding all these things was doing nothing to help him resolve this problem. He could acknowledge all the facets like piecing together a puzzle, but he had no idea what kind of decision he could possibly make that did not end up with Ellana hurt by his stupidity.

Solas needed a breather, more information, some leverage with which he could somehow gain distance to this moment.

Lynelle was eyeing him with a predatory gleam; she had sensed weakness in his stunned expression and his silence, and all the fighting was likely her pointing out to Ellana that he was a lying scoundrel who did not deserve her, and Ellana was defending him.

All too soon Lynelle interrupted the fight to question him, "My cousin has made a valid point, flat-ear," she said with a jeering edge, "But one which I must contest, so answer me this; if you truly are my cousin's bondmate, what do you intend to do about the final bonding? Because I can tell you right now, her mother is going to kill you if you pollute her daughter with your mongrel spawn, and any advantage you could possibly offer the Clan as incentive, they will decline,"

Ellana was looking at him with pleading eyes.

Solas' throat felt congested, as if he could not breathe. 

Someone was going to get hurt, Solas realised with dawning horror. One way or the other, things had come to a head; Ellana demanded commitment on a level Solas could not provide her, not without lying to her face about his preparedness, and she would know it the second he acted. Lynelle wanted him to hurt Ellana so she could have an excuse to convince her cousin to drop him like a hot stone, and she was likely going to get her wish because Solas had no idea what to do.

"Well," Lynelle prompted angrily after an awkward period of silence, "Answer the question seth'lin!"

Solas felt cornered and pressured, his heart was fluttering violently in his chest, and he had no words to speak or defend himself with.

"Is that really the best you can do, seth'lin?" Lynelle levelled a mocking sneer at him, "Listen to him cousin, if he can't even speak a word in his defense now, how can you possibly believe he'd stand beside you against your mother?"

Ellana was shaking from barely suppressed fury, and she stepped between them, "Of course he won't when you bully him like that!"

"Isn't that what you've been doing?" Lynelle said sweetly, "Trapping him in a bonding he wasn't even aware he was entering into? After all, with that liability of yours, what person would want to be bonded to you voluntarily if they were in full possession of all the facts; you had to take what you could, when you could,"

Ellana's entire skin grew ghostly pale.

"She's always been like that you know," Lynelle told him as an aside, "Bossy, selfish, arrogant, inconsiderate. You were just a tool to her," Lynelle smile was sharp like a poisoned dagger, "Her easy ticket out of the role planned for her now her disability prevents her from fulfilling her original purpose; so she got herself bonded to some stupid flat-ear, who doesn't know any better, and then get pregnant on her terms, rather than do the honorable thing and accept the arranged match prepared for her,"

Solas was stunned, looking between the cousins, trying to understand if there was any truth to this statement.

Ellana raised her chin defiantly, "You go too far," she hissed under her breath.

Lynelle laughed mockingly, "I'm only just getting started!"

"You don't know anything about Solas, so you're using your inside knowledge of my circumstances and making things up to lower his opinion of me!" Ellana accused her, "All because it's much easier to blacklist me than change my mind about him!"

"If you're so easily blacklisted because you've been witholding information from him," Lynelle circled back to her argument skillfully, "Then perhaps this 'bonding' is more fragile than you thought,"

"Solas is a good man,"Ellana stood taller, pulling her shoulders back defiantly, "I've known that from the start. I have striven to return his kind generosity and forebearance as best I could; I would never use him for such a scheme, I respect him and his principles too much to ever even contemplate such a plan. Bonding is not simple, it doesn't work unless you make it work, you know that better than anyone Lynelle!" Ellana shot back defiantly.

Lynelle narrowed her eyes, her brow furrowing considerably, "Now who's being underhanded?" She sniped back, "He's not Dalish, Ellana, look at him; does he even understand the severity of the duties and responsibilities he has towards you? Does he even comprehend what being your bondmate would mean?"

"He may not be Dalish, but he has been faithful and loyal to me," Ellana maintained, practically vibrating sincerity, "He has shared everything he has with me, and if he is more reserved and shy than most, I can accept it, because he is my bondmate!"

Solas was speechless. Not five minutes ago, he had never suspected Ellana to have considered them bound together in such a permanent fashion, now he was hearing her profess such profound loyalty and unbridled affection for him that he reeled from shock. 

Solas was the first person to admit that his past was full of misery. The few good things he had had were always taken from him, any happiness he found was replaced by greater misfortune, and all his worth had been thoroughly dismissed time and again.

But despite his wildly contrary behaviour at times, Ellana truly believed him to be good, and infallibly admirable.

All Ellana had wanted was to be with him, in any shape or form, according to his limitations if necessary. She had wanted him, and that thought alone stirred his feelings of inadequacy and insecurity, only feeding his quavering fears of how this could ever work out, with his secrets still untold and his mouth rendered mute from indecision.

Lynelle scoffed, "Some bondmate he is, cowering behind you while you speak for him! Or are you so ashamed that you have to hide his utter unsuitability from me behind a veil of words?"

Ellana caught his panicked stare, her large green eyes begging for assistance and reassurance.

All the strangely heart-warming moments of the past year wavered in the balance, teetering over the edge, hinging on the urgency of this need. Deny her and end it here, or lie for her sake and dig his own grave.

It had been easier, during their many quarrels before, to go to her and offer reconciliation, completely ignorant of the truth. But now Solas was keenly aware that if he wanted this to continue, if he wanted Ellana to stay, he would need to speak up and defend his claim, and if he did, he would need to learn how to deal with all the baggage that came along with it.

This was the moment. If Solas betrayed her trust now, he would lose her forever.

The threat of it crushed him under its weight, and he bent his principles one more time because of her.

Solas stepped out from behind Ellana, gathering all his courage, his hands shaking with nerves, "Whether we are suitable or not, is not a judgment you can make in this situation," he spoke up, desperately trying to downplay his terror, scrambling for a suitable reply, "You do not know me, and you are making a snap judgment based solely on the fact that I am not Dalish. I can sympathise with wanting to protect Ellana, but it seems to me that she does not need protecting from me, but from you,"

Lynelle glowered at him, "You don't know what you're talking about seth'lin," she growled.

"Really? Then why have I heard you repeatedly threaten us with violence in your family's name?" Solas returned sharply, wishing an end to this awful situation, "All I keep hearing is how her immediate family will dismiss me, humiliate, or even murder me, just for existing! I have not made any such threats against you or your family, nor will I. There is nothing unsavory or underhanded about my relationship with your cousin, and I bear no ill will towards her family. We are both consenting adults, and I fail to see why you are dismissing your cousin's right to make her own decisions regarding her life,"

Lynelle spoke slowly, as if to an idiot, "Since you seem to be hard of understanding, let me clarify something my dear cousin may have neglected to mention, seth'lin," Lynelle glanced at Ellana before continuing contemptuously, "My cousin held a venerated position in the Clan, one of great prestige and respect. By forsaking it and running away, she has caused great disgrace to her family, and now you're mixed up in it, you have become an accomplice to her ingratitude,"

"Whatever her former position," Solas bravely replied, "Your Clan seems to have survived without her, and Ellana should be the one who decides what she should do with her life,"

"You truly have no shame," Lynelle shook her head in bemusement, "If there were any honor in you, you would not speak like that,"

"Solas may not be Dalish, but he is honorable!" Ellana interjected, stepping to his side, "And while I don't understand shem manners all the time, in my eyes he is acquitting himself of your insults with both dignity and honor,"

"If he had any of those qualities he would release you from this odious circumstance!" Lynelle argued, "If you would only listen to sense Ellana, and come home, all this could be forgot and forgiven. Your honor would be restored, and no one would care two twigs whether you soiled yourself or not with him!"

"He's not holding me against my will!" Ellana protested.

"Debatable, since you were always naive and gullible," Lynelle scoffed, "Besides, you and I both know this is just an escape because you could not stomach the fact you were not important anymore,"

"This is not an escape!" Ellana shot back, "I have my own life here, I met Solas by happenstance, and if you just gave him a chance-"

"He's never going to be accepted! You're just digging yourself in deeper Ellana!" Lynelle returned without mercy, "If you come back with me, all of this can be smoothed over, all the seth'lin needs to do is drop this ridiculous bond you've clearly pressured him into-"

"No," Ellana denied, grabbing his arm for support, "I am not going back. My place is with Solas now,"

"Don't be naive Ellana," Lynelle sneered, "Look at him, he's sweating more than a guilty party at a trial. I'd be surprised if he even knew that you considered him your bondmate before this; these seth'lin are no better than shems at these kinds of thing! You're just projecting your feelings and hopes onto him, and he's humoring you because I doubt a man with his looks has many offers," her acerbic words hit a little too close to home for Solas' liking.

"Why are you saying awful, untruthful things like that?!" Ellana exclaimed, "Are you just trying to get a rise out of me?"

No, Solas thought, Lynelle was playing both sides to incite a violent conflict, pushing and prodding at all the weaknesses she perceived in their relationship. And she was terrifyingly good at it, aided and abetted by the fact that there were many openings and venues, because their relationship was problematic and riddled with structural integrity weaknesses ripe for abuse.

If this was their first true trial as a couple, Solas was not optimistic of their chances at rising to the challenge as they were.

Ellana's pure belief in them might win them this battle, but once the really big guns came into play, her faith could easily be broken, especially if the weakest link was found and abused, namely Solas himself.

"Awful? This is just piss in the ocean of troubles headed your way if you stay true to this path," Lynelle reminded her sardonically, "Once your mother catches wind of it, and she will eventually, you can bet your creators-damned aravel she will make it her life's mission to destroy you and your precious bondmate,"

Ellana squeezed his arm in a vice grip.

"I am giving you the nice option of doing the right thing Ellana," Lynelle said with genuine care in her voice, "Stop being obstinate and think. Is this really worth ruining your life for?"

Ellana drew a deep breath, "Yes. It is," she declared without hesitation.

Lynelle looked between them, her face locked in a disapproving scowl, "I'm not cruel or unreasonable Ellana, so in deference of all the friendship you showed me at my worst, I'll give you a week to reconsider. After that, if you still hold onto this madness, I will pass that letter to your mother, and wash my hands of whatever comes next,"

The woman began heading out, "Think about it, seth'lin," she growled at him as she passed him by, "If you are honorable like my cousin claims, I am sure you will make the right choice,"

Solas was practically shaking as if he were under assault from an earthquake in the wake of this clash of wills. Solas waited to hear the backdoor slam, and needing confirmation the situation was over, he checked the small window on the second landing to see that the huge trailer was indeed backing out the drive and out into town.

This also served a double purpose of being a ploy to gain more time to fashion a suitable continuation to the topic at hand, one that did not end up with him frothing at the mouth and/or suffering from a heart attack.

"She's gone," Solas said because he had nothing safer to comment.

"Solas..." her voice held a clear undertone of resignation and regret, "I... I'm sorry, if-if, if I forced you to-"

Solas drew a deep breath, then returned to her side, taking her good hand in his and tried not to focus on her hopeful, honest face, clad in vulnerability he'd have to deal with.

"I think," Solas squeezed her hand, "That we should sit down and talk this out like sensible adults,"

Solas led her gently to the couch and sat her down. Only now did he notice Ellana was still dressed in her winter jacket, which she had had no chance of taking off, and he began untying the buttons on the coat absentmindedly.

It was easier to concentrate on the buttons and the thick cloth underneath his fingers than look up in her keen eyes and admit her cousin was right about him, inevitably disappointing her, after he had taken part in a deception for her sake alone.

But inevitably, the coat came off and silence fell over them as Solas had no idea how to begin, and she was peering at him soulfully from underneath her eyelashes.

Eventually her fingers reached for his worn shirt and began playing with his collar, "That was very... chivalrous of you," she murmured, scooting perilously, distractingly closer, "It was not the introduction I was hoping for, but..." Ellana sighed, crawling close enough that she could curl against his chest.

"Ellana," Solas grabbed her shoulders resolutely and forced himself to catch her eye, "I- err, your cousin..." he faltered in the face of her trusting face, "Was she right about your family objecting to u-us so violently?" He cursed his weak heart, unable to disappoint her after this awful fiasco of a day.

It was Ellana's turn to squirm; she refused to catch his eyes, and instead made it her mission to plaster herself into his lap as intimately as she could.

"Ellana," Solas was too familiar with Ellana's touchy-feely ways to be diverted by such a simple stratagem; although it raised the inevitable question if she too had been avoiding speech by covering it up with physical affection, "Ellana, we can't act like nothing happened," Solas reminded her.

Ellana's right hand crushed some of his shirt fabric into a fist.

"What did you write?" Solas attempted another way of approaching the problem.

"I told them about us," she mumbled into his shirt after a pregnant pause, "And about how I was happy and safe, and that I would not be coming home,"

"And the reply?" Solas pressed.

"Lynelle intercepted the letter and called me an idiot," Ellana eventually admitted, "She owed me a favor so she kept the letter from reaching mother, and wrote that she was coming to get me,"

Ironically, that very same letter had led to their current level of intimacy. Had Ellana been resigning herself to being removed, before his ill-timed affirmation of her hopes had changed her mind by accident?

"You don't want to go home," Solas stated, and her vicious answering nod affirmed it.

"May I ask why?" Solas hesitated, not sure if it was proper to ask, or if he wanted to know.

Ellana did not immediately reply, but when she did it was in a tiny voice, "Mamae was going to amputate my arm because we didn't have the resources to deal with it," she confessed, "Mamae didn't care that I didn't want it removed. I knew I could take care of it and maybe someday regain some use of my fingers, but she was going to take it and make me into-" she drew a shuddering breath, nearing a sob, "I had to go, and I can never go back,"

And Ellana's irrational fear of hospitals was finally made clear. She feared they'd finish her mother's job for her, without her consent.

"If you go back now-" Solas began, but Ellana sat up violently and glared at him, "I am never going back," she reiterated nose to nose.

"I was not implying you were," Solas hastily clarified, "I just wanted to understand what would happen if, hypothetically, you did go back; I am not Dalish, and I have no idea what kind of punishment we are talking about,"

She narrowed her eyes at him, but eventually settled her head into the crook of his neck, and replied sullenly, "Mamae would take my hand clean off, make me into a breeding machine, and tie me down to a childbirthing bed for the rest of my life," Ellana mumbled with greater bitterness than Solas ever expected her capable of feeling.

"I don't understand," Solas felt necessary to ask, "You're a mechanically apt magitech genius; why would your mother waste such potential?"

Ellana sniffled, "Without my hand I'd be useless to them. Losing a limb is the end of all productivity for the Dalish. It's to do with our religion and values of practicality; long story short, they'd never trust anything I built or maintained afterwards,"

"What on Thedas happened to your arm?" Solas finally dared himself to ask, now Ellana seemed to be in a chatty mood.

"There was a fire," Ellana replied monotonously, "In the chaos my hand got crushed under a collapsing aravel, stuck under burning debris long enough to cripple me for life,"

"Let me see if I understand this correctly," Solas asked incredulously, "You got hurt in an accident, and suddenly everyone around you completely dismissed your value and contributions because of something that wasn't your fault, and were going to amputate something that might heal with proper, albeit expensive, treatment, against your will,"

Ellana nodded, unable to do more; obviously still hurt by her nearest and dearest suddenly turning on her.

He remembered their first meetings, of letting her help him take care of the house; had Ellana attached herself to him because Solas let her do things, and didn't consider her flawed or an invalid? 

Perhaps... they were more alike than he'd imagined.

There had been a time when his own 'affliction' had seemed to affect everything around him and turned society against him, effectively crippling all his potential and closing most doors to opportunity in his face.

Solas felt a wave of sympathy for her, and lacking words to comfort her, he instead wrapped his arms around her more securely, and pet her hair in what he hoped was a consoling gesture.

They sat in comfortable silence, listening to the winds howling outside, and Solas spent the time arranging his thoughts, until he remembered his original intent of the day.

Perhaps after all the relevations of the day, his own might be lost amidst the clutter and become an accepted part of the background? Surely, with their similar circumstances, Ellana would not reject him outright?

"Ellana," Solas licked his lips in the hesitant silence following his call for her attention, and he rallied all his courage, daring himself to continue, "There... there's something you should know about me,"

Trapped with her in his arms, staring into his eyes without judgment, he found the possibility she would change her opinion of him a terrifying eventuality that halted his tongue in his mouth.

Ellana tilted her head this way and that, waiting for his reply.

"I..." he took several large gulps of air, trying to calm his rapidly palpiating cowardly heart, "T-twenty years ago, I-" Solas felt his whole body begin to rebel against his attempt, bursting into cold sweat and shivers that seemed to arrest his brain.

Ellana's eyes softened, her fingers reaching for his cheek comfortingly, "You can tell me anything, ma vhenan," she murmured soothingly, punching all remaining breath from his lungs, and leaving him gasping for air.

Solas couldn't tell her. Not when she was looking at him like that. Not when she had called him-

Ellana covered his lips with her own, in a slow, romantic kiss that held the purity of her adoration for him; how could he ruin that for her?

More lies by omission, and he hated himself for being distracted by her touch again.

"I don't care what my Clan will think," Ellana nuzzled his nose afterwards, her cheeks flushing, "You are my home now," she whispered in his ear.

"And your cousin?" Solas found himself pondering aloud.

Ellana dropped her head onto his shoulder again, "I had hoped... Lynelle was like a sister to me growing up, and is one of the most tolerant Dalish I know, but... I just wanted them to know what you meant to me, and that they'd accept that,"

Solas had an ominous feeling which was soon collaborated, "If we could convince her, then she could help make mamae understand that this is what's best for me," Ellana pleaded, "If we could just try to appeal to Lynelle-"

"And if we fail?" Solas pressed realistically.

"Then at least we'll have tried," Ellana replied, "Please, vhenan; it would mean a lot to me,"

Solas, stuck in a situation he was inept to resolve without tears, agreed with a terse nod, and was rewarded by a grateful smile and a slew of kisses one after the other, and Solas very sternly pulled her back to kissing his face rather than his neck and her hands from wandering too much, more than once.

So long as he was keeping things from her, Solas would not allow things to go any further than that.

Sophia was going to laugh at him when she heard of his dilemma; but Solas was desperate for advice on how he was going to deal with this situation.

Solas resolved to call on her tomorrow, provided he could get Ellana to bed without incident on time; she seemed fired up about the touching and the cuddling now he had admitted publically and in the face of her cousin just how officially screwed he was.

It was going to be a long week.

 

\---


	15. Knowledge is power

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very late, I know. I've been sitting on this chapter for a lot longer than I want to admit, but decided to stop procrastinating and post it, because I really need to get this ball moving; we're getting closer to the end!  
> In other news, my bad luck with health problems is finally turning and I am able to pursue writing again. I wish every one of my wonderful readers a (belated) riveting and interesting new year!
> 
> Ps. I am by no means a scientist, so if the facts are terribly flawed, it's literary magic and thus okay.  
> Pps. A numerologist is something between a physicist and a mathematician. Someone very (nerdy) talented with numbers and advanced calculus.  
> Ppps. Vivienne is the Head (Al)chemist of the Academy. She's got a sort of soft spot for Dorian; she can forgive a man with his appreciation for haute couture.

Sadly, asking his old friend for advice was impossible; Sophia's condition took a nosedive on the very next day, and she was put in quarantine, again.

Thus, in addition to being anxious about the whole, messy bonding issue, now he faced a no-less terrible situation; dealing with Ellana and readying himself for Sophia's rapidly approaching demise.

Somehow, he had always expected he'd have more time with Sophia, to ease himself to the inevitable. Death waited for no man or elf, Solas knew it better than most, but it still took him by surprise.

Besides, he had his hands full with Ellana's crazy scheme in the week before Lynelle left Haven.

At least it kept him busy and his thoughts away from Sophia's plight, even if the escape did cause him some guilty twinges of conscience.

Keeping his eye on the clock, Solas laid down the receiver and turned his mind to earlier this morning, hoping for some fresh clarity of insight that might help him understand if he could have done things better.

\---

 

"I have an idea," Ellana said with her eyes ablaze.

The mere premise of making such a statement was usually enough to call upon the forces of nature to doom the proposed venture at every turn.

"You know Mamae is the Clan healer, and she's always complaining about the few medtech our Clan has," Ellana gestured animatedly, as if his public acceptance of their bonding had put such childish excitement and buzz into her blood that she practically vibrated with some inner wellspring of happiness.

Solas was a lot less peppy at six o'clock in the morning, when Ellana had not been able to contain her eagerness to pursue her brilliant idea, and had consequently jumped on his torso and woke him up, as well as punched all the air from his body in one inelegant flop. 

Now she was busily laying atop him and babbling with stars in her eyes, which Solas might allow to be cute, if he wasn't too busy staying awake and getting his breath back.

Blearily Solas considered if he had ever been this excitable when he had been about her age, but then again, at her age he had been a bit pre-occupied and tied up in... personal matters, so the question was moot.

"So, I'm thinking, if I use shem resources to build some enhanced medtech that Alina can deliver for us, to prove I can still be productive and am not useless or helpless just because I..." she blushed mid-soliloqui, and gave him a bashful kiss on the cheek before clearing her throat and continuing, "Anyway, that would go a long way towards gaining goodwill and acceptance among my Clan, if nothing else. What do you think?"

Solas thought that he had no idea where she drew the energy for this with only a generous five hours worth of sleep.

Aloud Solas said, "If you think it'll work, I'll trust your advice," he tried not to yawn too hard as he forced the words out his tired mouth.

"Er," Ellana got up, still sitting on his lap however, and fiddled with her thumbs. "There is a slight... catch,"

After finding out that his innocent gesture of goodwill had landed him squarely in a Dalish 'marriage', it would have to be quite the catch indeed to throw him off.

"Typically a gift like this has to have some contribution from both of us..." Ellana avoided his eye. "I can do all the building and the technical stuff, but you would need to supply the materials or something equally significant as my contributions for it to count,"

Solas ran his palms over his face. 

"Does it have to be medtech?" He tried to dissuade her.

"Mamae-"

"Won't be interested in anything outside her interests, I assume," Solas grumbled.

"Yes," Ellana fiddled with the edge of her frayed, worn shift. He would really need to buy her something new to wear, even if it turned out to be some Dalish faux pas; the effect of her appearance was not doing his blood pressure good.

"If you help me find some books or treatises, and help me find the materials, that would surely qualify," Ellana shot him a bright smile, bouncing back from doubt like sunshine after the rainclouds have parted. "Knowledge is very valuable to the Dalish; I am sure they would appreciate it!" She steadfastly declared. 

Solas doubted her kinsmen would share her naive opinion. Theory was well and good, but it didn't keep the aravels going, or feed the Clan at the end of the day, he imagined.

"We don't stock medtech journals or studies," Solas rebuffed her gruffly, but seeing her crestfallen face he scolded himself for letting his prejudices get the better of him. "But I can do some research; the Academy has some kind of medical program that might have leads yo-we could follow," he corrected himself barely in time; he didn't want to hurt her vulnerable feelings.

"Really?" Ellana beamed at him.

"Yes," Solas mournfully promised, and guessing her next action, he braced himself just in time to not be knocked out by her subsequent pounce.

"Thank you so much, vhenan," Ellana nuzzled his chest, and Solas pat her back, feeling guilty.

This venture would not end well for him, but Solas had lied for her and taken her side, and now he was stuck in this rapidly moving freight train and fearing every bump would cause them to fly off the tracks.

Instead of articulating his doubts, he hugged her back with a sigh.

\---

 

Once the worst of the excitement had been beaten and Solas' blood sugar values had been stabilised, Solas had had enough time to consider how to approach this issue.

Solas had concluded that if he staid away from certain dangerous aspects inherent in this venture, there was no reason he couldn't go along with her intention.

Sadly, Ellana's unpredictability was proving to be his greatest rain check.

"Why don't you stock medtech related books, vhenan?" Ellana frowned from her spot on the counter, peering at his ancient readout which he was using to search for safe books related to the matter. 

"You've even got books on agriculture because of the applied natural sciences and geology department; the medical program of the Academy is pretty well-established and well-thought of," she poked at his flimsy excuses while remaining completely convinced of his goodness and infallibility.

"It's a minor faculty; aspiring medical students usually apply to Val Royaux or Denerim over Skyhold; even the Calenhad Circle has a better faculty than Skyhold," Solas replied carefully, "Besides, the books they publish are much more costly to stock than other faculties'; there are numerous restrictions on their research and publication rights that must be dealt with, making them more of a hassle than they are worth,"

"Oh," Ellana tapped her cheek. "I didn't know that. I never really paid attention to the matter,"

"What kind of machines does your Clan have?" Solas changed the subject.

"Well," Ellana turned thoughtful. "We've got a simple diagnostic reader, a wound cauteriser, an EMP, and a blood transfuser, I think. The Chantry missionaries vaccinate our kids free of charge. The rest Mamae treats the old fashioned way,"

Solas nodded; a clever physician could go a long way with those, but the truly complex conditions would be beyond them. 

"Anything we build has to be mobile, so the more complex and specialised gear is beyond our scope," Solas analysed calmly, clicking away at the inventory, "But my guess is that most Dalish ailments center around accidents; lacerations and dislocations, and since you work with machinery, some burns. The equipment she has is suited for those cases. We could either offer a modern diagnostic aide, which would allow her to identify the hard cases and send them to better care, or we could make a self-sustaining serum mixer, which could offer greater triage opportunities for your mother,"

Ellana's eyes widened, and she began chuckling at her own surprise. "I don't know why I am so surprised. You're such a learned man, vhenan," she murmured bashfully and began playing with her overgrown hair.

Solas avoided her gaze, a twinge of guilt was gnawing at his belly.

Ellana combed back her unruly bangs. "Mamae doesn't really need a better diagnostic tool, but she could use some better poultice management," she declared after a moment of consideration.

Solas had a feeling that would be the case, but he had had to try to steer her away.

"Much as you disdain the Academy library," Solas returned to the subject, "They have all the required knowledge you would need to build the device. The chemistry however, will be a bit more complex to manage, and I'll need to do a bit of research to find a compoud your Clan could manage to upkeep," 

He wrote down a few titles down and handed the list to Ellana, whose brows had furrowed with distaste.

"If we must do this in one week," Solas tried to sound encouraging, getting up to tuck the list into her unwilling hand, "We have little option but to use what resources we can, Ellana,"

Ellana sighed in defeat and accepted the note.

"You'd best head for the library," Solas urged her, "I have a few tomes on chemistry tucked in the back, and I do have a shop to run, despite appearances,"

Ellana grabbed him for a tight one armed hug instead of responding.

"I can't begin to express what this means to me," she mumbled against his chest.

Solas was torn between guilt and a fondness so strong he wondered at himself. When had she become so important to him?

Ten minutes and a thorough smooching later, he watched her hastily exit the shop, waving at him with a grin wider than his old abused heart could bear, and his thoughts dwelled on the certain journals he had hidden away instead of his work.

Long ago, Solas had sworn that he'd leave them in the past where they belonged. And yet, for this cause, could he afford not to use all the means at his disposal? Ellana's relations would not be placated by amateurish efforts, and the thought of Ellana's quiet disappointment at his lackluster efforts decided his course.

With an uncertain gait, Solas headed down to the cellar, and lifted one of the floor boards, unearthing the long unused front of a strong box, and with shaking fingers he dusted off the blank face of the lock before pressing his left hand palm down on its surface.

He winced as the mechanism lightly seared his palm with an invasive light, and after the click of the safety switching off could be heard, he pulled his palm off and shook his hand to relieve the necessary burns of the biometric lock.

Solas shifted through the journals crammed within, rifling through a few before he found what he was looking for.

With regret, he knew he'd have to keep the journal close at hand if he wanted to work out the formula for Ellana, and he re-sealed the strong box regretfully, still clutching the offending volume.

Then he dusted himself off, hid the strongbox from view again before returning upstairs.

It seemed that Solas would find out if the past two decades had atrophied his skills or not, once and for all.

\---

 

Solas stared at the clockface, finding no answers in the near past, and wondered what he should do.  
It was long past six p.m., and Ellana had still not come home.

Ellana seldom, if ever, used the Academy facilities, but if she did, she was usually home before six. 

While he had sent her there to read, he couldn't help but wonder if it had been such a good idea after all. With her cousin in town, and with the threats made against him, he could not shake off the thought that with Ellana out and about on her own like this, she would be all too easy to kidnap.

And if it did happen, it would be all his own fault.

So, he could sit here and wait, hoping for the best, or he could take a pro-active approach and go looking for her.

Considering how well the last time Solas had sat by and twiddled his thumbs had ended, he was not willing to risk it.

Seeing no alternative, and growing more and more anxious with each minute trickling by, Solas closed up shop and went looking for her.

Sitting in his car, driving down to the Academy in search of the missing Ellana brought to mind last autumn, and how his desperate search had ended. 

It was hard to grasp; It felt like they'd been living together forever. 

Solas had never expected to experience anything like it, and he could draw up a very vivid, very logical picture of what his life had been like before Ellana had waltzed into it. Though logic dictated he had gotten along just fine without her, when he tried to imagine life without her, he found his earlier, peaceful, placid, and above all, lonely, life unbearable to return to.

Perhaps he had grown attached to the benefits of having a warm bed, someone to talk to, and being seen as a person who was beloved. Or perhaps he was only happy because it was Ellana who gave him all those things. 

If someone had asked him these questions before February, he would have fallen into the former category. Now? 

Now he was asking a librarian if they'd seen the previously banned student, who had been aquitted and allowed back into the library only at Dorian's insistence, and was checking every nook and cranny of the building not fifteen minutes before closing time. 

Solas was not one for publically broadcasting his attachment by touchy-feely behaviour, but when he did find her, in a dusty corner of the international newspaper room of all things, he felt such profound relief at seeing her unharmed and whole, he wanted to hold her in his arms and never let go.

But he restrained himself, aware of the two minutes left before they'd be locked in, and approached Ellana, tapping her on the shoulder.

Ellana jumped in fright, mussing up the massive pile of newspapers she had been combing through carefully.

"Oh, vhenan," she clasped her hands over her heart, "You startled me," she smiled wanly, out of spirits.

Seeing her ghostly pallor and the dazed look in her eyes, Solas heaved a long sigh of frustration. "It's seven o'clock, the library is closing up for the night," he reminded her sternly, "You've been reading all day," Solas stated, and he didn't need to see her wince to know he'd hit the jackpot.

"No," Solas forestalled her objections and grabbed Ellana by the arm, pulling her away from the stack of mussed up newspapers. "Leave them be, the librarians will call security if we're not out in a minute,"

Ellana whined, but he ignored her, grabbing her discarded satchel from the floor in one hand before he led her out, ignoring the glare of the librarian on the front desk. 

Ellana was wilting, having skipped any and all sustenance all day no doubt, and he worried she'd collapse; he adjusted his grip on her left arm, sliding gently to her shoulder instead. She seemed so frail, with her willowy constitution and disabled hand, that Solas wanted to bundle her up in his arms and put her somewhere safe and hidden for the rest of time. 

Solas swallowed all his well-prepared arguments and berations, and instead drove her home in silence.

The things she did to him... and the strange part was that he didn't mind anymore.

\---

 

Despite her fast all day long, Ellana only nibbled on the dinner he'd presented her with.

Solas had no idea what was wrong with her. In the past, Solas might have brushed it off and let it be, but now he wrung his hands and bit the inside of his cheek, trying to discern clues from her drooping countenance.

It wasn't her hand, was it? She didn't seem to be in pain, and she never skipped on the daily ointments and gloves. Was she coming down with something? Had someone said something to her? 

Solas hovered anxiously by as she slowly picked at her food, and stopped before the plate was even half-empty.

When it was obvious she wasn't going to finish it, he put away the food as leftovers without fuss. 

Ellana had transferred herself onto the sofa when he returned to the living room, and he seated himself next to her.

Usually, the moment he sat down, she was crawling onto his lap, but today she just swayed in place.

If this was a ploy for attention, it was working like a charm, Solas thought ruefully.

He acknowledged that most of their relationship and intimacy had been initiated by her. But to be fair, he hadn't exactly been looking for either, and his experiences in both had been very traumatising, to say the least.

But Ellana was... so different, and something completely unexpected. Like a sunflower planted among weeds, which overpowered the usually prevalent plants to flourish instead. Solas was desperately afraid that his stand-offish behaviour had at last choked out her child-like wonder; he almost wanted to shake her and demand she go back to her usual self.

Solas had no idea what to do. His panic over her mental state, and the worries holding him prisoner rooted him in place, unable to speak or act.

Their fragile relationship was chipping and crumbling, just like he feared, all because he was a worthless idiot who had been fooling himself and overreaching desperately, just so he didn't have to be alone anymore.

The silence, the coldness, and the loneliness of the past decades, coupled with the threat of losing Ellana and the impending demise of his only, dearest friend, pressed on his brain like a ten ton weight.

Solas wasn't sure how long he had spent in the awkward silence, but at some point, Ellana wobbled towards the shower and Solas couldn't bear moving for fear he'd break, like a man made of ice under mounting pressure. When she was gone, he moved away, busying himself with established routine, going through the motions like clockwork.

His reflection in the bathroom mirror was sporting dark circles and his eyes had a suspicious misty sheen to them. Solas stared without seeing, and witnessed a teardrop roll down his cheek. He wiped it away with shaking fingers before proceeding with his nightly rituals.

In no time at all, they lay in bed, but there were no good night kisses or any cuddling like usual, despite the close quarters his small bed necessitated.

Solas lay there, eyes wide open, stewing in misery, when he felt her shift, but instead of turning her back to him, she instead crawled in the dark until she lay against his side.

She ran her good fingers along his cheek and said, "I'm sorry,"

If anyone should apologise, Solas thought, it should be himself. But he couldn't form the words around his feelings of inadequacy in the face of her need.

Ellana let out a deep breath, then looked into his eyes seriously. "Solas," she whispered, her left fingers twitched on his chest and her right thumb rubbed his cheek soothingly. "Whatever happens, whatever the future throws at us, we can face them together, no matter what," she affirmed, a strange glint in her eye he didn't understand.

He felt the only appropriate answer was to reply, "Yes. Together,"

She dropped her head onto his chest and squeezed him as tight as she could, as if she never meant to let go.

Solas stroked her back and felt there were a million thoughts in his head, blockading each other from being expressed, until all he could think about was that the only comfort and good fortune he had ever had, was her undeserved and naive belief in them.

He held her close, and listened to her slowly deepening breaths and slackening grip, until he too lost himself in the veil of night, and the restless dreams of a distressed mind.

\---

 

The next morning, he found her thumbing through his carefully hidden journal.

Solas had hoped he could keep it hidden for a while yet, but Ellana's unpredictability principle had kicked in, again.

Her forehead was creased as she concentrated on the text, totally ignoring him.

Solas briefly considered his options; he knew telling her off and confiscating the journal would only make her more determined to read it, but letting her draw dangerous conclusions from the handwritten pages was guaranteed if he let her keep reading it.

If she hadn't figured it out already; sometimes he forgot how clever she was.

Explaining why he possessed a medical chemistry journal way beyond doctorate level might be possible, if said journal was not also penned in his own hand. Ellana was not stupid enough to believe it wasn't his handwriting; she had seen enough of it to know it when she saw it.

He really should have put it back in the strong box... but last night's panic over Ellana had made him forget, and once she was around, it was impossible to sneak under her nose. Bad enough she saw this journal, Solas did not want her poking her nose into what else lay hidden inside that strongbox.

Some things were best left buried in the past. Ah, if only he had had the strength of will to defy his own pride at his former accomplishments, and burned away the accursed notes when he could, then he could have avoided quite a few heartaches in his life.

Sadly, his parents had named him much too aptly.

Ellana noticed him dithering in the doorway.

She waved the journal as if it wasn't damning evidence of his sins, "Did you write this, vhenan?"

"Yes," he confirmed; Solas saw no reason to spiral deeper into the cesspit of lying.

"This is... brilliant," she leaned over the armrests, her eyes wide with wonder, "I had no idea you were a medical chemist,"

"I... was more a... theoretical numerologist, but I dabbled in chemistry," 'among other things' he added mentally. Solas forced himself to move closer, but could not stop avoiding her eye. "But that was a very long time ago,"

"Is there anything you can't do?" She teased him lightheartedly, shaking her head with a smile and settled back down to read his journal.

No follow-up questions. No prying. No demands for explaning himself. No accusations of lying.

It was... disquietingly odd to say the least. Solas wasn't sure whether he should be happy he got off the hook, or worried there was something else going on here.

But that was his paranoia talking. He silenced his doubts and decided not to make a big deal out of it; he was not equipped to deal with this kind of crazy at this unholy hour.

At least she seemed to be herself again. He even got a good morning kiss, and she filled the silences of his life with excited banter that forced a small, relieved twitch to his own somber expression.

\---

 

Ellana had made him drive her to a junkyard on his lunch break, where she was apparently a valued and expected customer. She made him carry home a distressing amount of scrap and various discarded electronics, which she spread all around the second landing's floor like a madman's toolbox. 

Then she began sorting them with a certainy that came with years of practise, gathering the required components for the machine from blueprints she had painstakingly made, and which Solas was ashamed to say he could not read and could barely follow her excited explanations about it.

But he recognised genius when he saw it, and Solas briefly remembered a similar young man, with a keen sheen to his eyes when presented with a challenge of building things from Solas' carefully laid out specifications.

Solas had almost forgotten about him. It was easy to forget, when his passing had been overshadowed by a death greater in terms of both what it had meant for Solas' own future, and what it had done to his psyche. 

Ellana had something of that same inspired madness, and Solas tried to remember more about the odd young man he had known all those decades ago, but came up with jack squat; the man had not told Solas a lot about himself or his home life.

Solas' greater concern was with the serum; he and Ellana had discussed the available plant and chemical materials her Clan had on hand, and Solas was trying to discern a viable solution from the little he understood of biology. It had not been his expertise, but with the help of some reference materials, he could let his superior understanding of calculus and chemistry do most of the work.

Creating the chemical compound itself was... complicated. It could not be half-assed, and Solas needed access to a proper laboratory and equipment to make even a rudimentary facsimile.

Which led him to begging Dorian for access to the Academy laboratories.

After sufficient wheedling, on the third night into their project, Dorian lead the way to the laboratory, way after all the researchers had gone home, a dubious expression on his face.

"Do you really know what you're doing? You do know Vivienne will have my head if this goes cocks up, right?" Dorian looked between the pristine labspace and Solas' usual frumpy attire sceptically.

Solas ignored him, putting aside his outdoor clothes and gathering the required alchemical equipments from around the work spaces, assembling them with old confidence into the correct distillation installation and laid out his carefully chosen ingredients, which he had brought with him, before donning the required safety gear and got to work.

Solas was dimly aware of Dorian taking a seat in the background and chatting with Ellana, who Solas had absolutely and repeatedly instructed to sit still and keep her distance until he was finished, since she insisted on coming with, no matter how he had tried to dissuade her.

Solas had hoped he could keep her in the dark as to the true extent of his training in experimental chemistry. His professional grasp of the equipment and the ease of his well-practised experimenting would give away more than he wanted her to question at the current time.

Solas only became aware of the hush that had fallen over the laboratory when he rose from the workbench to return the equipment to their appropriate sections and clean up the vials, and noted the expressions on his audience; unbridled shock and intense consideration respectively.

Dorian exclaimed aloud, "Well, when you said you needed to use the lab, I expected you to be having a lark at my expense, rather than turn out to be a trained chemist!" Dorian frowned, unable to comprehend something his academical way of life dismissed as a possibility. "If you can distill a working compound in this time and without any issue, why do you work in a ratty bookstore?"

Solas ignored his audience and carefully put away the precious serum in the specialized case he had asked Ellana to build for it; he could steep it to perfection at home, once the gestation period was over.

Solas rolled his eyes in response to Dorian's continued demands, and began rinsing the vials, "Not all of us have the option of pursuing an academic career, Dorian," he replied with an overlay of sarcasm.

"Yes, but I doubt you picked that up from books!" Dorian waved at the workbench with his serum irritably, "No, you must have worked in a facility at some point, surely!"

"Whatever was before, it's over and done with," Solas eluded the question, finishing his cleaning up in the sullen silence. "Now, let us leave, I need to cool this serum adequately before the critical period is over," he finished, picking up his clothes and holding the door for his companions expectantly.

Dorian unhappily dropped the matter, but his curiosity could not be repressed for long and on the way back to the parking lot, he ceaselessly attempted to wheedle answers from his locked lips.

Ellana followed the exchange without comment, her eyes grave, and without another word she fell in-step with him, wrapping one arm around his own absently, a casual intimacy that jarred him out of his musings on the past.

Solas dreaded the moment when her lips would demand the answers Dorian was grasping for, and he could not in good conscience deny her the truth when that time came.

\---

 

Solas admitted to some curiosity; usually when Ellana tinkered, he never really had dared look too closely at what she was doing. In his experience, mechanics might do some pretty reckless things to achieve results, something his careful, logical mind balked at and grew distressed about should he take note of everything they did.

But he had never really seen Ellana build something from scratch like this before. The magnetograph she had bequeathed him with so long ago was testament of her abilities, and he knew her to be capable from all the tinkering and improvements she had made to his abode, but then she had been building with fixed materials and settings. 

This machine was something new, something that she had never done before, an exciting chance, and an opportunity to showcase her skills to gain approval; that always raised the stakes for success, and naturally made Ellana even more pumped about working than usual. 

Ellana had turned his bedroom into a mechanical workshop and every surface was filled to the brim with her spare components and tools, a necessary chaos he could forgive due to the strict time frame of the experiment.

Solas dithered at the door, holding a tray of food; bringing her sustenance was his flimsy excuse to spy on Ellana in the throes of her creative frenzy.

When Ellana noticed him looming in the darkness she let out a frightened squeak and stumbled most ingloriously onto the floor.

Solas hastily set the tray down somewhere relatively scrap free and rushed to her side, "Are you hurt? I'm sorry for startling you," he offered sincerely.

Ellana rubbed her back with a moan as she pulled the wrench, which she had stumbled on, out from underfoot. "I'm fine," she groaned, waving him off, "This happens all the time,"

Solas helped her stand nevertheless, and against her protestations herded her to the bed, where he pushed off scrap so she could sit on the canvas covered bed; for once Ellana had actually taken into consideration that the grease from the metal scrap would leak and ruin his linens without some form of protection, or perhaps she had a vested interest now she shared the bed with him.

He shoved the tray into her unwilling lap. "Since you ignored my calls for the fifth time," he berated her, but with an edge of fondness, "The mountain comes to Koslun once again," he quipped, taking in the full chaos of his bedroom with a sigh. "I hope you know you'll have to pack this up in a few hours, right?"

"I'm in the middle of delicate calibrations," she whined, "I can't-"

"You won't be doing anything with an empty stomach, and even less without sleep," Solas reminded her, shaking his head, "But I suppose I can wait a few hours," he relented.

Ellana looked up in surprise.

"Provided you promise to let me sleep in a bit, of course," he added, then he hesitated before leaning forward to peck her cheek awkwardly, "Now finish your soup," he bade her oddly empty expression, and decided to flee before he made even more of a fool of himself.

Her fingers snagged on his sweater, preventing him from leaving.

"Solas," she pleaded, "Don't go,"

Solas usually let her tinker in peace, just like she let him have his quiet time in the ground floor shop during his working hours. Surprised by this breach of conduct, he found himself being drawn to sit beside her on the canvas.

Ellana idly mashed her soup without lifting her spoon to eat and said, "Mamae never let me maintenance her machines, or let me work on anything medtech related," she told him without looking him in the eye, "What if I ruin it? Your solution, all your hard work-"

This lack of confidence was surprising; but perhaps she had been hiding her insecurities from him, especially something as fundamental and private as a familial issue. But he hadn't been family, and he certainly had not seen himself as family until very recently, so he had had no reason to bring up, or discuss these sorts of things with her before.

They'd mentioned it in passing, her seeing this as home, here with him. It was a sobering slap in the face for Solas to come face to face to the undeniable truth; it was a reality, despite his former ignorance on the matter.

Solas forced himself to put an arm around her fragile shoulders, logically it was the thing you did in situations like this, but his own insecurity was doing its best to make his efforts seem worthless. 

He took a wavering breath and continued past his fears. "From what I have seen, I have full trust in your abilities. Even when you've done something I'd thought inadvisable, you've always fixed it, if not to the same state as it was before, then into something even better,"

He used his free hand to tilt her chin up to look him in the eye. "That is your gift, your special talent, and you should be proud of it and trust in it; it's gotten you this far," 

Solas gave her a weak smile, sucked into the unknowable depths of her muted countenance. "I believe you can do it," he said lamely, hoping it sounded at least somewhat comforting.

Ellana looked down, but the there was a miniscule twist in the corners of her mouth, and she leaned on his shoulder with a murmured, "Vhenan,"

He ran his hand along her arm in what he hoped was a soothing movement, and she stayed where she lay, breathing deeply and serenely against his breast.

"Your soup is getting cold," he reminded her after a while, nudging her arm, "If you fall asleep on me, I will put you to bed without any remorse, pack up your tools, and make a mess, which as we both know, will force you to re-sort everything, and don't think I won't," he threatened her suspiciously loose hold.

Ellana swatted his chest with a displeased frown, finally beginning to ladle sustenance into her petite body.

Solas remained to ensure she ate it all. After she was done, Solas gathered the tray away and proceeded downstairs, Ellana called out from the landing, "Thank you, for the soup and everything,"

He turned to look up at her glimmering viridian eyes, now graced with a real smile, and said, "You're welcome,"

She shut the door behind her and Solas knew he'd be sleeping on the sofa tonight, and would find her passed out on the floor in the morning, but he would never force her to abandon the things that brought her joy in life, even if it meant discomfort for them both; at least they'd both be able to appreciate a warm bed the next night.

\---

 

Testing the completed medtech would be tricky, of course. 

Solas had designed the serum with elven physiology in mind, and while himself or Ellana could serve as test subjects, he was hesitant to subject Ellana's frail body and already compromised skin to contact with his serum. 

The experiment might have side-effects for her wounded skin he could not account for, especially dangerous since Ellana resisted a professional study of her condition.

And Solas himself... well, he was fairly healthy and fit, and more than good enough for a test subject, but he needed a control group consisting of more than himself for adequate confirmation the serum would work.

Although convincing Sera to aid them in so short a time was not the call he would have made, Ellana seemed confident the obnoxious elf would help when pressed sufficiently.

Luring Sera over was ridiculously easy; all he had to do was call Dorian and divulge certain convenient information of his 'temporary disappearance', and Sera would take advantage of it.

Solas watched warily, keeping an eye on Sera's grabby hands in particular, while Ellana and Sera whispered under their breaths intently. Although in Sera's case, her whispering was interspaced with many loud and colorful expressions, and peppered with varied swear words for good measure.

How Ellana managed it, or what favors had been traded to reach an understanding, Solas didn't know or want to know, but it all lead to himself and Sera having the skin of their forearms mildly inconvenienced for the purposes of simulating conditions for the serum to work on.

It was nasty work, but apparently Sera had an unusually high pain tolerance, and Solas could handle minor cuts, burns and abrasions for the cause without flinching.

Solas had not the option for a large budget and the benefits of testing the premise on animals, but since the serum was a derivative of his earlier experiments, which had had the priviledge of having been tested on willing humanoid test subjects, he was fairly certain he would need no more data to verify the appropriate sustained effects.

After a few hours of observation and examination, the data confirmed his earlier findings and his postulations. Ellana was excited and gladdened by their absolute success, enough to do a little happy jig. Sera had rolled her eyes watching them react to the data, munching on all the chocolate she could eat, which Ellana had liberated from Solas' hidden stockpiles to appease the prankster for her temporary discomfort. 

Solas watched Ellana's child-like joy and thought wistfully that replenishing those stocks would be worth it, if this venture would at least give Ellana the peace of mind for trying to reach out to her Clan, even if it wouldn't gain even a shred of their acceptance and forgiveness.

In a way, working with the things Solas had abandoned decades ago, for a good cause, might also cleanse his conscience from the nagging feelings of betrayal and dishonesty that clung to his skin.

When Ellana rewarded him with a rulebending kiss against their agreed upon social interaction PDA, Sera's gagging sounds and mimed expressions of retching drew him away from the past into the present, and for a moment, he overwrote what once had been with what was.

And Solas found, for the first time in his life since, that now was so much better than what had been.

\---

 

Lynelle glared at the two of them with barely veiled contempt, or well, more at Solas than Ellana really.

It had been six days since the unfortunate meeting, and one day to go until the deadline. Lynelle apparently took his presence at Ellana's side to mean he still had his claws in Ellana's vulnerable and suggestible mind.

Frankly, if he could trust Lynelle not to force Ellana into leaving against her will, he would have let the cousins hammer out the final details without him.

But Solas was not a fool. From Ellana's fond and spontaneous reminiscences over the past week while they worked on the medtech, he had drawn that the cousins' bond was deep, and that Lynelle's desire to keep Ellana with the Clan might override Ellana's own wishes on the matter. Solas had seen enough and lost enough to have his own vested interest to try and protect Ellana from violence that desperation all too often facilitated.

Whether it was right or wrong of him to be with her was a matter that could wait; ensuring Ellana's independence was much more important than his own failings for now.

"We've brought a tribute for the Clan," Ellana declared formally, gesturing to the small machine Solas was carrying, "As is right and proper, even you must agree,"

Lynelle's eyebrows shot up in sceptisism. "You really think your mother will want anything your shem lover made?"

"I've detailed our progress and the necessary information to prove our goodwill," Ellana hefted a small letter in her right hand, offering it to Lynelle. "Mother must see its value, and the good our bond gives to our Clan," Ellana maintained immovably.

Lynelle rubbed her forehead wearily. "Ellana..."

"Lynelle," Ellana spoke out, brimming with determination, "I know you cannot completely understand, but I am happy, and our bond is genuine. I cannot go back, you know that as well as I. Please, Lynelle, for me," she finished with a plea in the Elvish Solas could not follow.

Lynelle let out a frustrated growl, snatching the letter from Ellana, her whole body trembled with some supressed emotion Solas couldn't read.

When the hot headed cousin hugged Ellana with enough force to leave bruises, Solas took a wary step forward automatically, but settled back when it was obvious both cousins were crying.

There were muttered reassurances in that strange dialect, or so Solas assumed, because eventually Lynelle let go of Ellana and turned away from him to collect herself and hastily wipe her face free of tears.

Lynelle swiped the finished medtech from his grasp roughly, glaring daggers at him all the while.

Ellana stared expectantly at her cousin, until Lynelle huffed, "Go away Ellana, I need to speak to your... Solas," Lynelle bristled with indignation and practically spat his name, but it was startling progress for the hostile Dalish elf. Perhaps Ellana had been right about Lynelle being more progressive than first appearances would suggest.

Ellana nodded and fell back to his car, parked a safe distance from the aravel.

Lynelle put away the machine, careful not to jostle it; then she sat down on her doorstep, pulled out a foul smelling cigarette, lit it and took a deep huff to calm her nerves apparently.

Solas waited apprehensively in the silence, taking care not to stand downwind of the smoke.

Lynelle eventually barked at him, "My cousin seems convinced of your worth, but I am not as easily impressed," she sucked on the smoke and blew out impressive amounts of it in his face. "Tell me the truth now, shem, or forever be shamed. Are you using her for your own deprivations? Is anything in the tribute made by your hand, or has Ellana done everything for you?"

Solas answered with as much sincerity as he could weigh into his words, "I would never abuse her. She is free to make her own choices, and though the idea was hers, I gave her the means to make it, as well as the knowledge to make a viable serum,"

Lynelle eyed him critically, shaking off ashes with a considering air. "So you say... but what proof have I but my cousin's words? Who are you really, Solas, to be able to contribute to my cousin's genius without any sense of inferiority or uncertainty?"

An excellent question, and one her cousin had not yet had the need to seek answers for, blinded by her infatuation and the recent state of their romantic relationship.

"Appearances can be deceiving," Solas replied, "Neither of us are fools. I am as wary of you as you are of me, and with equally good reason and motivated by a similar concern,"

Lynelle chuckled darkly, sucking on the dregs of her cigarette. 

"Spoken like a Keeper. Perhaps you can stand on equal ground with her after all," she blew smoke out her nostrils like a dragon, and grinned menacingly. "I am much more lenient than Ellana's immediate family. They will want answers to harder questions than I, for they are not bound as we are to Ellana's wellbeing. Her brother may see reason before the end, but my Aunt is a woman of honor and duty, and she was gravely disapppointed in Ellana when she ran away,"

"Ellana is a grown, free woman, and her choices in her life should not matter to her mother if they bring her happiness," Solas responded carefully.

"You really do believe in this freedom nonesense, don't you?" Lynelle laughed with a strong dose of irony in it. "That's all she wrote about you. How you never forced her despite your advantages, and how you always gave her a choice, and how gentle and generous you were. Freedom is a drug for Ellana, for in her life before, she had had none,"

Solas wondered at her meaning, and tried to discreetly wave the smoke away from his nostrils.

"The Dalish are a people of honor and duty," Lynelle explained, pausing to tap some ashes off her cigarette before continuing, "There is no freedom in either. There is expectation and the meeting of it, nothing else. Ellana always chafed, because no matter how they tried, she did not fit in the roles they forced her into. It made her unhappy, and it made her desperate when the accident changed everything,"

Lynelle paused, glancing towards the direction Ellana had disappeared to, and lowered her voice before continuing, "You are a convenient safe haven, for now. Hold her close if you value your life, because when her blood relations come to call, they will need to see an unbreakable bond to challenge their minds; and I see no such bond now," 

Lynelle's eyes bored into his soul, like dark embers in a dying campfire. "I see a shadow of a man hiding behind a placid surface, and a girl who wants to drag the shadow into the light, with no idea what she is truly seeing until it is too late. She holds onto you, but do you hold onto her?" 

She took a long drag of her cigarette, not breaking eye contact and Solas found himself unable to look away.

Lynelle narrowed her eyes and huffed dismissively, "I don't see the same ardor for her that she has for you. I do not see this love she seems so sure you must bear for her, to have given her so much so freely. You are not a man of duty or honor, and for you the things you have done have not the same values as for her,"

The sentence settled on Solas shoulders like a ton of bricks; there were no words he could summon to defend himself.

"I cannot break her heart," Lynelle drew her head back, glaring darkly up at the cloudy sky, puffing out smoke in tendrils that dispersed into the vast ether above. "But you could. The signs are there, Ellana does not see them yet, but her disappointments will only grow with time, and then your distance and disaffection will do the job to alienate her for good,"

Solas had no breath to deny these truths. They were the stuff of his cold logic, and his nightmares, that told him how things were.

"So for Ellana's sake, I have only two things to say to you, shem," Lynelle continued, putting out her cigarette viciously, burnt to a stub and ground to dust against the blackened metal wall of the aravel, "Either break her heart now and let her go, or commit to her, you cold hearted snake, because I will break you if you don't bring her the happiness she deserves,"

Lynelle stepped into the aravel, slamming the door in his face without a word; the audience was over.  
Solas steadied his breathing and temper as best he could before he returned to the car, where Ellana was waiting for him, craning her neck out the window, looking out for his approach.

"Are you okay?" Ellana asked, taking in his paled countenance when he collapsed into the driver's seat.

Solas was not good with spontaniety, or showing affection, or talking about feelings. He was old and he was awkward, and to be honest he had no idea how he had managed to beguile Ellana to this point.

It had happened without his active participation, and had kept the same course ever since. Ellana was the instigator, and though he had chosen to return her feelings openly, he never initiated anything for her.

And unless things changed, then Ellana would tire of always being the one in the lead and slowly slide away from him, until nothing remained, just like Lynelle had predicted.

With shaking hands, Solas reached for her face, allowing himself the luxury of tucking a lock of unruly raven strands behind her delicate ear and running his thumb on her cheek.

Ellana blushed at the sudden change in mood. He gently tugged her head until their foreheads rested against each other, albeit somewhat stiffly in the cramped space of his old car, but Solas ignored it and closed his eyes to memorise the sound of her breath on his eyelids, and the softness of her skin underneath his fingers.

He allowed himself to be weak, to satisfy his need to touch her of his own volition. For a moment Solas listened to his fearful heart hammer in his chest and let his fingers shake with anxiety born of his uncertainty.

"I'm not..." he faltered, the truth dying like flame into ashes on his tongue, and he swallowed the bitter taste, reluctantly changing his words. "I'm not good at this," Solas murmured hesitantly, but with a sincerity he only dared express with vague words and half-truths, "I am sorry, if it causes you pain,"

Ellana laid her right hand over one of his own, and squeezed it comfortingly.

"It's okay," she replied with grace, her fingers caressing his knuckles, "I know,"

Solas' jaws clenched, and he mentally screamed that she really didn't. How could she, when he could never say it aloud without admitting to lying?

With shaking hands he pulled her off him, placing a fond kiss on her forehead, before starting the car.

She let him have his silence, and all Solas could think of was a memory of bars and a single dark room, and he wondered if he had ever truly been freed of it.

\---

**Author's Note:**

> To my readers; you are the sweetest things for buggering on until the end. Thanks for reading, check-in again later, I may have more stuff for you to read.  
> Maybe. We all love a good cliff-hanger...


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